With a broken leg it’s never your fault,
torn flesh is seldom the host of guilt. But
the prison that is your mind, they believe,
Is something completely within your control.
Torn flesh is seldom the host of guilt, so
you cut into your skin searching
for something completely within your control —
a momentary blessing in a lifetime of curses.
You cut into your skin, praying. Maybe
they will understand; in your head,
it’s a lifetime of curses with a momentary blessing:
you get to feel alive and human again.
They will understand that it’s in your head,
you can choose to smile and
you can feel alive and human again,
You do not have to be a victim.
You choose to smile, but
Your mind is still a prison and
you remain victim of a stigma, but
with a broken leg it’s never your fault.
83 Protons 
Beautiful and very true. I remember wishing I had a broken arm instead of Depression.
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Thank you ! I think most people who’ve experienced mental illness wished it were more physical at some point.
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