Our human mirror is smudged by your false promises,
your stories sold to us in bright, shiny bottles and
neat, crisp labels pulled from
your Bible of Dehumanization.
You’ve covered our glass with a thick coat of deception,
your intoxicating fumes distorting what we look like,
what we think it means to be human.
Beneath this dense coat of your greed,
(for your pockets are lined with the exploited tears and fears and unchecked joys of those of us who feel and think too much for your liking),
our patient, human Truth awaits us, a nation of patients.
To struggle, to suffer, to yearn, to seek: this is the Truth of why we’re human.
Psychiatry, I have scraped you from my mirror, and
I have wiped the glass clean to see a stranger looking back,
this human being I’m only now beginning to know, to love, to trust.
I have peacefully buried your remains in an
ever-growing graveyard of labels and pills, for
I must tell you, Psychiatry, that
but one of many
who’ve wiped the mirror clean of you
to see a new face looking back,
beautiful and human and free.