I never understood why a therapist's office is designed in such a manner
I always thought it'd be more welcoming
The chairs would hug you for comfort
The windows would welcome sun
The color of the walls would invite you to stay a bit longer...
That's not the case.
The chairs strap you in to ride that emotional roller coaster like you're the only one in the amusement park
The windows, present or not, often shunned into the corner where they remind you of the lack of comfort in the outside
The walls are drowning in the off white scream over your presence, then remind why you're the one that's wrong
They want you to talk
They tell you to close your eyes and remember, to accept it, to move on
"It's okay to talk"
They give you a capsule, tell you to swallow it, and watch
"Talk to us honey"
They push the tissues to your cheeks to catch the trail of emotion
"C'mon, just talk to us"
Their words hang over your shoulders and your blurred vision only becomes more disrupted
"We're here to help you"
Their pen scratches the paper, leaving your history bleeding over the lines
I don't want to talk!
I never wanted to talk...
...Talking is what brought me here.
YOU ARE READING
Slam Poetry
PoetryWell this is a first time and I'm a bit nervous on writing one of these pieces but I hope these turn out the way I think they will. Again, since this is a first, this may be a little choppy but never the less, I hope you all enjoy. Please be sure to...
