Im afraid its one of those days,
Where my face goes blank,
And I have very little to say.
Its not that Im gutted or unable to feel,
Its all there but with no visible sign,
Just part and parcel of my being mentally ill.
Ever known me to not want to chat?
My answers are closed,
Just 1 or 2 words in fact.
Flat is tone of my voice,
Lacking depth like a robot,
Not much expression or choice.
I find it funny whats being said,
I do get the joke,
Its certainly not gone over my head.
My energy is terribly low,
My motivation is shot,
Im all arrows but with no good bow.
I want so badly to join in,
But Im shattered with no fight,
Literally no way I can win.
Ive not washed or pampered,
My boar-brush remains untouched,
An otherwise proud man is currently hampered.
My attention span is screwed,
Im struggling to remain focussed,
Im really not trying to be rude.
Its best you leave me alone,
You wont get much out of me,
Maybe a text, but certainly not by phone.
But Im not actually sad,
Please dont hear me wrong,
Suffering deep yet not feeling low or bad.
Appointments and plans will be lost,
I dont know why per se,
But hopefully at not too great a cost.
No guitar and no holy rosary prayed,
Staples of my daily life,
No sage-smudging and no advice obeyed.
You can scream or cry at me all day,
I do honestly feel your pain,
But little be given back in word or display.
Worth noting regarding my ballad,
For me usually half hour’s effort,
Took more than 5 days to make sound valid.
It sounds like depression,
I can hear you amateurs say,
But established via professional diagnosis and session,
I’m afraid it’s just another Negative Symptoms Day.
©️ Max Heinrich G Liebow, A Ballad of Negative Symptoms, 2020