It's the song I had on repeat when I was broken.
The one I kept going back too...

Everytime grief entered I went into another room.
A door, a window, the whole house and its gardens...

My love got swept up in the wind and rain but it...
When the storm subsided and the stillness came my...

I am not OK.
I haven't been OK in a long time...

I walked every avenue of avoidance just to find...
Everytime I shut down the experience it resurfaced...

My self-love is circumstantial.
My self-worth particularized by events...

That pivotal moment you decide for the first time...
You grapple with your urges and find it within...

Scars are relics I touch with reverence.
Fingers traverse across these marks...

I keep my temper but I am angry.
I save my arguments for in the shower...

That's the thing about depression
it keeps coming back...

How the softness of grief gives way to anger.
There is no crying but there is this feeling...

A sign on the door to the hospital read
"STOP IT OR COP IT...