“Psychoanalyst”
Some reason is telling me that
there is something to be done right now
and Some man thinking that he knows
What it’s like to be me
all the while he’s lying.
Asking about my childhood, not
that I don’t remember it, but
I don’t think he needs to know
to tell me what he thinks,
he has a predisposed opinion.
I’d love to know what they’re thinking sometimes
Then, I’d never have to worry about crossing lines
that they didn’t quite draw, hoping
I wouldn’t see them
and go on suffering silently
in the background.
I’ve gotten used to
such existence.
Why doesn’t he just let me be?
just let me live to die
just like everyone else…. only in a bit more pain
than the rest
knowing that in all the problems
that I say I have…. those that I would like to fix
are the ones that aren’t even mine