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?