~THERAPY~ I sit on an aging sofa, Facing an old-fashioned clock on the wall, It's finally 3:00, My therapist sits on a leather chair, Looks down at her notes, As if her scribbles had any relevance to my problems, "Well, how's home?" I answer the same questions, "You have plans for the holidays, right?" I lie, I smile, I try to be funny, That's all I can do.
Truth is, I've been bouncing from home to home, My parents and their respective partners hate me, "I got a teaching job," I don't know if I signed the contract because I love children, Or because I needed to get a place of my own, My last meal was a day ago, 10am to be exact, Well, "How's home?" Is this a trick question?