poem about mental health
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My mind is a bowl of alphabet soup. A mess of mental health diagnoses- reach in and pull out a spoonful. Arrange the letters to guess the imbalance that keeps me in vertigo a single cooling blow and I dive into the bowl.
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It’s not about the stupid tattoo. Just like it wasn’t about the party he skipped, or the ranch he never took me to, or the Valentines date he let his best friend crash. It isn’t about the birthday left uncelebrated, or the coffee dates I arranged, or the parties I planned, hosted and cleaned up
Bringing Mae Flowers 