You left me.
Wounded.
I needed help.
You turned away.
Hardened yourself.
Wrote a prescription.
Sent me home.
In a fix,
Not fixed.
I took them.
You were the authority.
I didn’t trust you.
I gave in.
Took your quick fix
That didn’t work.
I left defeated.
Again.
Uncared for.
Again.
Cold medical model.
Didn’t see me,
My personhood.
Didn’t celebrate me.
Did care that
I was alone
In a cold flat
With concrete floors.
Didn’t ask about
My social context,
My loves,
My soul,
My purpose.
Just saw me
As broken.
But I knew,
Intuitively,
I was not.
I knew and
I used art
To keep me safe,
Express my selves,
My needs,
My wants,
My power,
My desire,
And I glued
Your pills to my canvas
To remind me that
It’s your authority that’s broken.