Therapy

I played it in my head, dead on the scene

I told therapy I wouldn’t make it past 17

You can’t crack a soul that’s gone cold

And a sick soul won’t grow old

Meetings on that couch with the lights dim

Forcing one to reminisce what’s meant to stay within

My secrets on her paper

I’m stuck I can’t evade her

I can’t escape

Her diagnosis is taking shape

She broke through my space

Why am I forced to be in this place?

It’s bottled for a reason

You can’t read this

Ill fake it to please you

But let it be known that you can’t fix what I’ve been through

I’m born alone and I die alone

My problems are mine and their well known

Another hour wasted

With my life basted

An hour in that cold box

And my mind locks