Therapy

Internal scars,
infected with guilt.
A world on it’s side,
a forty-five degree tilt.

One day I am fine,
and the next not so much.
It’s a bipolar horror,
of memories and such.

I swear I just saw you,
but my mind’s playing tricks.
It’s like burning a candle,
to the end with no wick.

I could swear I was crazy,
but my mind tells me no.
So we argue out loud,
a new ultimate low.

Please fix me i’m broken,
wait, stop. I’m ok.
It’s the shit that I deal with,
on a regular day.

Now this purple gorilla,
is making me mad.
Did I say that out loud?
Ignore that, my bad.

Oh well, just forget it,
let’s try to move on.
Oh yeah your not here,
i forgot you were gone.

Snap back to reality,
who’s this guy I don’t know?
He says he’s my therapist,
times up I should go.

Therapy

Brad Post

Joined February 2008

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