Fuck You by T.O. Walker

Fuck You

I won’t be
The right type
Of victim

I won’t be the
Quiet type
Of victim

I won’t fit
Into boxes
For you to close

I am not sick
Or broken

I refuse to be
And recovered
And mended

I am not
A statistic
To be counted
Or dismissed

I am more than that

I am not
One page of a book
One leaf on a tree
One voice in a crowd

I’m all the words and sounds
I am a forest of ideas
A chorus of experiences

I am not
A professional
An academic
An undercover reporter

I am not
A mother
A partner
A sister
A daughter

I am not single
But many
A multitude
Of identities

Fuck you
And your labels
Your projections
Of my stability
My strengths
My life
My capability
My everything

You don’t know
Who I am
You can’t see
Past your assumptions
Your agenda and vendetta
Your arrogant

You’re blinded by
desire to silence
But the cat’s out the bag
You cannot keep me
Until the cows come home
That day has ended
And a change has begun


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Mad in America hosts blogs by a diverse group of writers. These posts are designed to serve as a public forum for a discussion—broadly speaking—of psychiatry and its treatments. The opinions expressed are the writers’ own.


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