Just been told by my stepdad my mental health is too much, I don’t even talk to him about it

Personal poetry #5: Am I too much, with my hands shaking and my voice breaking, stuttering and sputtering, with the meds you see me take day and night you know I’ll never be quite alright, with Mary Jane to calm my brain I wish you could see my pain, the thoughts, the tears, the fears and frights through all my anxious nights