You could give me your opinion, or maybe it’s a fact

You could write me a prescription

And tell me “That’s that.”

You could make me think that it’s all in my head

But, what do you know about how my anxiety is fed?

You could tell me that I’m crazy, and maybe I am

You could call me a liar

And say, “It’s a scam.”

You could make it all out to be a phase that will wane

But, what do you know about my depression, my pain?

You could tell me that it’s drama, but it won’t change the play

What do you know about my symptoms that won’t go away?