Unzipped

I think back

Back to a time

When I had no words

And my moth was a zipper

With a lock keeping it shut

And someone else holding the key

And I don’t know why

I was silent

And I don’t remember

Why I felt so weak

Why?

I look in the mirror

And I see a girl

Not even 5 years younger than me

It is me

And she’s the same

With a mouth locked shut

As she cries

And goes to therapy

The only time the lock is removed

And then it’s back on

And she’s lost

And is walked over

And no one listens

Useless and worthless

It’s dark

Back in therapy

The clock is ticking

Diagnosis?

PTSD and bipolar?

Really?

But these are valid

She thinks

Because now she’s on meds

And things click in her head

Of why she was the way she was

And she stops

And she knows herself

Finally

Through the pain

The zipper is broken

And now?

Now she must learn how to speak

With a zipper still on

Just no longer holding her back.