Therapy | One

Dark Poetry

black background, white text: “Therapy: One”

In my mind I hadn’t connect the dots
Hadn’t realized how much of me
Was shaped by the trauma I endured

Not until the third time I sat on a couch
And let my heart bleed all over it’s leather

As my blood crept towards my listener,
I wondered can she smell the tainted meat
That is my body, no, still not my body

Could she taste my desperation
As I re-traumatize myself for the sake of healing

As I bleed I can help but think
Do I remind my listener of the horrors of this world
Or am I simply another symptom

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