When Your Card Gets Declined At Therapy | Poetry Collection Part 1 ©

Disheveled Emotions

Are my hands just cold or am I anxious?

I feel it in my throat, felt it for a while.

A sensation like someone had a cold grip around it, slowly growing stronger.

I am not sure how much longer I can hold on against this.

Do my eyes just burn or am I crying?

I don’t feel the tears staining my mascara, don’t feel them wet my skin.

When I was younger, I was told crying was a sin.

Are my cheeks just flushed or am I angry?

I feel it in my veins, this roaring fury, ready to be unleashed.

Felt it for a while now, forced it back,

Not the time to cause a scene.

Soon enough, sensations slip out of control. When I lose my senses, things break.

Plates.

Glass.

Trust.

I must contain myself.

How come I feel so lone and lost in my mind? Surely there are others of my kind who can relate.

But I can’t seem to want to pull out the slate

Shoved into my heart by a cold hand.