Please---no more. No more asking:
Are you drinking enough water?
Are you stressed out?
Are you resting enough?
For the ache to go, I'd sleep all day waking only to hydrate.
Please---no more criticisms:
You're high-strung no wonder you have a headache
You were a spoiled child
Hmm, you ARE anal
You only want attention
For the ache to go, I'd cloister and isolate into zen.
Please---no more prescriptions:
You should do yoga
You should eat organic
You should align your chakras
You should find God
You should exercise more--or not so much
For the ache to go, I'd gulp every 'should,' camp in church, meditate to stupor.
Please---no more armchair psychotherapy:
Identify your self-defeating beliefs
Are you mad at your mother?
"Were you abused as a child?"
For the ache to go, I'd lavish love to Self and more.
Please---to all you doctors:
Don't look at me, your eyes loaded ammunition suspicion
In the ER, don't deem me drug-seeking
In your office, give me more than six minutes
Dare not assess my 'perfectionism': don't ask about my bowels
In your notes, don't write neurotic
Bite your tongue and forget telling me to take vacation
Dare to be clinician stellar nay extra-ordinary
Do it for yourself, do it for us
Educate your Self.
Please---no more "help"
I've heard it all--
What's more--done it all
Can do little more
Except live, and live some more--
Day by day pregnant with pain.
Nothing easy about it
Please---understand I'm ill-at-ease
Only because I have a dis-ease
In my brain and not my heart
My brain hurts because of my genes
My heart hurts because you blame me