Depression For the Doctor

Are you depressed?

The dr. asks

and I say yes

and he demands to know why I think so

his tone accusatory

his manner annoyed

insisting I provide proof

of my nebulous feelings of doom

what can I give him?

all of my shed tears, preserved in a bottle?

the lump that clogs my throat?

perhaps the waves of pain that make breathing a chore.

there is nothing for him to see

it is the sort of agony that doesn’t leave a mark.

 

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