“It could be worse.” “Try to stay positive.” “Other people have it harder.” “At least you still have a job.” “Have you tried gratitude?” “Everything happens for a reason.” “Just smile.” Every slogan like a finger Every slogan like a finger pushed straight into an open nerve. “Chin up”, “breathe”, “just change your mindset” – you don’t hear what we deserve. You throw sunshine like a weapon, blind us when we start to shake. Call it “help” and “good intentions” while we split along the breaks. You don’t sit with what is breaking, you just polish up the frame. You call that love and “being strong” – we call it gasoline on flame. Keep your sunshine, we don’t need it. Your bright light burns, we’re done to feed it. You call this healing, we call it rot – smiles on top of a stomach in knots. Every “could be worse” is poison, poured on what you will not touch. You prescribe us pretty sentences ‘cause our truth would hurt too much. You want comfort, not our bleeding, want us tidy, soft and small. If we scream, you call it “drama” – so we swallow it all. You don’t stay when it gets ugly, you just reach for brighter lies. You call that “keeping spirits up” – we call it not hearing our cries. “It’s not that bad.” “You’re overreacting.” “Focus on the positive.” “Be grateful.” “Others have it worse.” “Don’t be so negative.” “Just smile.” Stop. Keep your hands off what I feel. Stop. If you won’t sit inside it, you don’t get to call it “heal”. Stop. Your sunshine is a cage, not light. Stop. If you can’t face the dark with me, then get your halo out of sight. Keep your sunshine, choke on the glare. We don’t need your hollow care. You call this helping, we call it rot – smile on top of a soul in a knot. Keep your sunshine, out of our chest. Let the dark speak what you won’t address. If this is all you have to give, then let your daylight die and let us live.
