I Took Advice From Inside the Couch Cushion

Pathetic

You sit in that chair,
That dreaded chair.
Possibly lifeless? No. You're still breathing.
You look to your arm, to the floor, to your arm, to the floor again.
You can see it in gold print now, Pathetic.
That's your new name, it won't take long to get used to.
You've heard it too many times to forget.
Will you be around long enough to see it concrete? No.
You can see it in flashing red and blue print now, Pathetic.
That's your new name, you see it while you are wheeled away.
The darkness statics at the corners of your eyes.
You hear it in the tone of your mother now, Pathetic.
You can see behind her lies, she means it.
She hits your heart monitor.
It flatlined.
You hear it in the tone of your father now, Pathetic.
You can see behind his tears, they were fake.
The wetness blots the note.
The one he found.
You hear it in the tone of your friends, We Cared.
That was their name for you.
You never believed it, because adults knew best.
They always did.
Yet they always said you were a happy kid.
A mother's intuition was always right they said.
Don't worry she'd never try it they said.
I guess they lied, you said.