4 years ago1,000+ Views
how am I supposed to write all of my feelings on this book, this silly lady, thinks she can help when all she can offer is a couch and a warm smile. she tells me "everything's going to be okay". everything going to be ok these words burn into my skin just like the marks that are burned into my skin when all the people around don't know why they are there. I ask why do you wanna help me? she looks at me and says"because I care" there another lie. again I ask "why? you have just met me. how can you care about me from this thirty minute session when no one else cares from my 18 years of life." she looks at me as the tables turn what was a interview, turned into a interrogation asking questions like why am I supposed to tell someone my issues when they obviously have there own. The kind of person who can listen to everyones fears and hard lives just to make theirs better to be a ble to say it's not that bad To go through all the minds of the broken people and not have a broken smile at the end of the day. So I ask who's the screwed up one now?
This poem turns it's start on it's end, and warps who's asking who what. Interesting.
Very true. Those that say "everything is going to be okay" need to man up and say "yes life sucks. and that's jsut how it is sometimes. But not always." It might be okay it might not and that's okay and something we need to live with. I like the doubt in this piece, and also the questioning throughout.