today i went to a therapist
with all my answers rehearsed
and i didn't say "good afternoon"
instead, i told her i'm sorry
that i was going to waste her time -
and the walls of that beautiful room
listened to me for the first time
talking about

how rarely i remember to take a shower
(and i do it only when i stink)
how ashamed i feel that i laugh too much
(but it was only to please people)
how embarrasing is to say that i was *****
(but i also wanted attention from them)
how dizzy i feel when i'm in a crowded place
(i've always thought that i'm autistic)
how merciless overthinking can be
(and it plays in my head like a broken record)

and i started crying

wanderers of our days
black and misty
who don't cry when
nobody has a kind word for them
why are we?
our life is a burning hole
and they live in the matchbook
where souls made of alcohol
are on fire
what do they do now?
but nobody knows
where those poor taverns fell

you told me that what goes around comes around
but if it comes around so rarely
just like my own happiness
it means that you can live in sin today
and i don't have the one of victimisation