Sickness of our souls

Illness comes in many forms,

All cause heartache,

and strife,

All cause pain,

and seem to have no gain,

All cause a families weary soul,

and imprisonment of mind,

When their told there's no cure,

That life will go on helplessly,

That's what happened to me,

I suffered from PTSD and MDD,

The things some people made me see,

But this poem is not about these things,

Or me,

I grew up around kids who suffered from ailments similar,

Autism,

Schizophrenia,

Mind crippling diseases,

We grew up on a floor in a building,

Away from society,

We remember not being able to see our families,

Go outside for months,

Often being forced drugs for sleep,

We felt as if the world had given up,

Lost and forgotten,

That was we,

I got lucky,

When I got out I was given support despite my disadvantage,

For my friends,

They weren't so lucky,

My heart fills with sorrow for all lost to suicide,

I remember when I almost took my life,

Those who OD'ed and passed us by,

I know the reason you took those pills was to hide,

For my friend who had to return home and was beaten to death by her dad,

I lost a love and I'm never going to forgot this feeling of guilty sad,

Mental illness isn't illness that needs a cure right now,

It needs awareness and support of those,

Willing to help fight for us,

We can't do it on our own,

Our minds are to worn,

But your heart can help restart ours,

I beg everyone to help mental health reform,

Every child has the right to proper and just medical care in all fields,

And the right for someone to believe in them when no one else does.