Therapy

by ForgetMeNotMyWords

The invisible hands of the old man clock ticked away,

As she twisted a thick gold band around white knobby fingers,

Her radioactive green eyes trying to pry into the abyss,

Of my mind,

She purses her lips,

Disgruntled,

Trying to interpret the vacancy of my face,

Still and patient,

I wait for her calculated observation,

Thick white paper crinkles beneath her yellow stained finger nails,

The lamp set off an eerie glow in the room,

Her ratty brown hair hung loosely above her shoulders,

My legs impatiently twitch beneath me,

“You’re depressed…You are too stressed out”

She finally says in an unexpectedly calm voice,

I can’t hear her,

For dissociation has already taken me far away,

She waits for my response,

An hour almost gone,

My vision finally starts to return,

My brains way of saying “fuck you” to her,

The invisible hands strike 2:45,

I stand to leave,

Hands wrist deep in my pockets,

The paper of her skin tightens across her face,

An hour wasted,

I shuffle towards the door,

Wondering once again why I’m even here,

As I turn the silver lock to make my leave.

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