It’s my night to meet with Liz
To tell her “bout my private biz
She mulls it over then tells me how it really is
You see it’s her job
To listen to me cry and sob
Imagine that…
She gets paid the listen to me

Most therapists say:

“Having a little anxiety attack?
"How about some nice Prozac”
Or
Can’t sleep, feeling lost and alone?
“How about some nice Trazodone”
Or
“Manic Depressive? Feel like a ***?
How about some nice Lithium”

Not Liz…
She gives appropriate drugs
Better yet she gives big hugs
Encourages me my thoughts to share
Teaches me to live again if I dare
To break free from loss and pain
Knowing from the truth I might gain

More free time
For both of us

On
Wednesdays at six