Nomkhumbulwa Aug 10
"I Wish I Was A Fridge"

I trust no one,
But I agree to see you;
You come every six weeks,
To see anything new.

I hardly know you,
I saw you last year;
I've seen others since then,
I know im difficult - thats clear.

But you came back again,
because there's no one else,
I have to trust you again,
When I dont trust myself.

But should I really trust you?
Or are you the same?
I hadnt seen you for so long
..i'd forgotten your name.

You ask me to explain,
And I try my best,
To explain whats in my head,
All the confusion and the rest.

I tell you everything,
With paper and pen;
Absolutely everything,
over and over again.

Then you say you cant help me,
So I feel even worse,
You say you are not a therapist,
I should have remembered that first.

All you care about
is whats in my fridge;
You go into my kitchen,
and check out my fridge.

Well the fridge is fine,
It might not be full,
But it has milk and leftovers,
...I wish it had wine too!!

You come here and visit,
And then I feel worse;
For I trusted you with things,
I should have thought again first.

For you cannot help me,
Why do you come?
My fridge is always quite happy,
My fridge is having great fun.

It has no nervous system,
No brain, no spinal cord;
Its incapable of "feeling"
Or trusting in the Lord.

You come all this way,
To look at my fridge,
You come here from Lamlash,
And check out my fridge.

I am clearly a failure,
As its always the same;
The fridge is just fine,
The pain is in my brain.

I wont see you again
for quite a while;
But I cannot promise
to put on a smile.

But my fridge will be fine,
I can promise you that;
If only I was a fridge...
...does anyone else feel like that?!

I shall get out some pens,
And draw a big smiley face;
Stick it on my fridge,
Just for you and your "fridge case".

I wish I was a fridge too, could put in and take out what I choose;
But im not an inanimate object - im a human being,
And I do often wonder....what got me into this state ...in the beginning.

All the best...with love...from the fridge :/ x
Rambling poetry during moments of frustration....not knowing who to turn to.
Aesthetichobo Jun 30
"What seems to be the issue today?"
A common installment conversed

Everything checked out but mentally
Well your going need some help, okay?

Anyways people your age suffer from all the same thing

Little does this doctor know this ain't the reason why I'm panicking

As soon as your diagnosed its like a big fat sign saying
"B R O K E N"

I'm going to recommend you a therapist,
one to help you take care of this.

One session of fake tears, blaming it all on my dad's absenceless

.... Suddenly, I'm well again.

Doctors really don't know they aren't able to even comprehend

Patting each other on their backs as a
"Congratualtions on your patient ."

As you sit back relinquishing your freedom,  of your own minds to it's own depth.
This is on the subject of forced therapy. It will never truly work unless the person wants help.  Or is 100% open to it.  All people deal with life and situations differently.  It will just create resentment too future treatment.  :) also I don't know how to even poetry  .
skyler Jun 26
he loved her when it was convenient
when substance soaked his system
emotions boiled over and he had no where to pour them
so he used her
like a therapist
and when the session was over
she never crossed his mind

s.s
Shadow Dragon Jun 24
Therapist: How are you feeling?

My answer: Currently experiencing hell on earth.
                      But nothing major, just a slight reaction
                      to the misery my thoughts
                      are dragging me though.

Therapist: That must be hard
Your mother spoon-feeds you happiness.
But at some point
the happiness becomes rotten.

So she cuts your meat in pieces
and feeds it to the therapist.
In hope of answers.

But she will never find the knifes
cutting slowly in your mind.
For you are hopeless.
Ashwin Kumar Apr 14
I had so much faith in you
I thought you would understand
Where others wouldn't
Where my family wouldn't
I was ready to pour my heart into you
To plumb depths
That I had not imagined
I would dive into
Even in my wildest dreams

I had so much faith in you
Because you seemed to know me
Even more than I knew myself
I thought I could trust you
More than I trust myself
But never did I dream
That you would use the trust
As a weapon against me
Driving a wedge
Between my heart, mind and soul
Taking away my means
To fight against this mad world
And leaving me more alone and sad
Than I had been
Before I came to you
Seeking all the answers
Looking for solace
From my own demons
And that of my world
Which had crashed around me

I had so much faith in you
But you took it for granted
The same way love is taken for granted
By almost everyone in this mad country
Where innocents are killed
In the name of love
For the Cow Mother

I had so much faith in you
But you dashed all my hopes
Just like the Big Bad Wolf
Who blew down the houses
Of the Two Little Pigs
In a swift, sweeping breath
Never once did you stop to consider that
I had a mind of my own
To you, I was always an object
An object of your undivided attention
An object that you could portray to the world
As having grown in leaps and bounds
Under your doctoral care
And thus win oodles of accolades
As the object in me prospered
And the human in me withered
Left to fend for myself
Under the watchful eyes
Of the Doctor and the mad world
This is a poem to my therapist, after I had to walk out of an emotionally draining session midway yesterday night.
zero Feb 20
If you can't think of it one way;
think of another.
You wouldn't let your car run from place to place
consistently for a week
without checking it's oil,
the tyres
or under the bonnet.

Why should we do any different?
My therapist said this to me

-Z.xo
no one Jan 12
think happy thoughts they say,
and the bad ones will disappear.
and my question to you is how?
how am I supposed to stay happy,
when my thoughts are telling me that i'm
a fuck up,
a mess,
a slut,
an idiot,
a bitch,
a fatty,
ugly,
a failure,
and i'm never gonna succeed?

just tell me how

is it by completely hiding the fact,
that i have not-so-great thoughts?
is it by spilling out my thoughts,
to a person in a white coat,
so they can write it down on a clipboard,
and give me happy pills?

because it's not that easy.
yet people tell me every day,
it's not hard.
i just chuckle at them and say,
you don't understand.
Belle Nov 2017
thank you
for the time you dedicated to me
even though it ended in a shit show
thank you
for the reassuring words that you offered
when i couldnt offer them up to myself
but
i will never thank you
for the betrayal i felt
when you canceled on me
or wouldnt let me leave the psych hospital,
lied to my face,
told me one thing, then someone else another
and when you gained my trust after i TOLD you it was so hard for me to give away,
and you ripped it to shreds
i will never ever ever thank you for the pain i felt when you gave up on me
or didnt respond to my pleas
my cries of help
when you told me i was seeking attention
and when i looked at you dead in the eye with a pain greater than both you or i know, and you never spoke to me again.
i was running down that street and you called my name, but you didnt tell me to stop.
thank you for your kind eyes
the way you tried to understand
and often, you did
but fuck you for all the times your kind eyes werent so kind behind closed doors
when you went home to your lover at night and didnt think twice of me
for the times i needed you and you couldnt provide it to me
you didnt give me validation
because when something is on fire and you want to put it out you throw on water, but you added fuel.
the fire kept growing
i burnt.
and you watched.
so if you committed arson and werent caught, did it ever even matter in the first place?
Ty Oct 2017
What would your 7 year old self say if
she saw you politely refusing your
favorite flavor of ice-cream
( Mint-chocolate chip goes best with
warm summer nights)
What would she think if she knew you drank
coffee black?
(You used to tell your mother that
it tasted like gasoline)
You skipped breakfast
(Your dad made pancakes every
Sunday morning)
Ran until your lungs couldn't
take oxygen fast enough
(No one is chasing you anymore)
Counting ever calorie
(You never liked math)
What would she say if she saw you hating yourself?
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