My therapist called today.
My appointment has been canceled.
My first thought? “Ironic.”
My luck has been **** lately.
My limits, tested.
My self esteem, drained.
My trauma, denied.
My thoughts wander — to a dream I had once — during my “service.”
I wake up in my squad bay, alone drenched in sweat
I hear a woman wailing from the bathroom
I run in — there’s blood, over flowing from the faucet, shattered glass blankets the floor
I look into the broken mirror, and see nothing reflected back
---
On a swampy night
the woman inside me cries.
—Part of me has died.
---
Feb 11, 2025
Feb 11, 2025 at 1:33 PM UTC
My therapist called today.
My appointment has been canceled.
My first thought? “Ironic.”
My luck has been **** lately.
My limits, tested.
My self esteem, drained.
My trauma, denied.
My thoughts wander — to a dream I had once — during my “service.”
I wake up in my squad bay, alone drenched in sweat
I hear a woman wailing from the bathroom
I run in — there’s blood, over flowing from the faucet, shattered glass blankets the floor
I look into the broken mirror, and see nothing reflected back
---
On a swampy night
the woman inside me cries.
—Part of me has died.
---