My psychiatrist tells me I am progressing, taking the necessary steps toward healing

but I can’t find a therapist who will listen to all the unpacking I need to purge

the system is flooded and all I can hope for is an outsourced counseling student who is earning her hours

when what I really need is a seasoned professional who has truly seen and heard it all

my self-medication has slowed a little, my daughter the greatest motivation

but just like holes filled in one place create holes in another, so it goes with my vices

I stand in front of the mirror, observe my skin, then grab the excess with both hands

you are good for a private roll in the hay

you won’t be displayed proudly on someone’s arm

the confidence you’ve built is a fool’s game

eat less, don’t listen to those hunger pangs

then the cycle continues
as the lies perpetuate my fatigue
and I am left in darkness where I know I belong.

Emily C. Poésie © 2019

Image: insspirito / Pixabay

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Manic Sylph says:

    Touching… the distress of the heart!

    Liked by 1 person

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