A Poem: Stages of Grief

There are supposed to be stages of grief

But I'm not good at being in 2 places at once.

Because I can't tell if the denial caused the depression or if the depression caused the denial

Maybe because I've been bargaining all along.

I was too broken to notice you were chipping pieces off for yourself.

The pain was always there.

Does it count as a stage if you're always in it? Or on it?

Because the acceptance speech I give my Self each day

is amplified by it and founded upon it.

The pain is not a stage, but the theater.

And this is not an act.

And I can't tell if the door labeled "Acceptance" will lead to an exit

or is it just another stage door?

Because walking through it before felt like being born,

simply to die a thousand deaths

And I couldn't breath through the sobs

so I choked on my tears

and I couldn't stop drowning

but I thought this was a stage

but it's not.

And neither is the anger

because she's stealing the show.

Best Supporting Actress:

and the award goes to

Anger

For her role as depression...

or denial

In the massive charade.

Now, they don't mention blame, so stay tuned for the credits

And when I say credits what I really mean is

Come see a list of my traumas on the screen.

My body keeps score but my mind lost track

shock and denial, let's run that shit back.

What do you mean it's not that kind of stage?

Is it one stage or seven, because that's a lot of pretending

and whose the director--

I can't just yell "Cut!--

Let's take it from the top.

This time, do it with a smile!"