I walk into class.
I am alone there...
Because I like
To get to places
Early. I wait for
Group to begin.
People start
Rolling in.
We all all say
Hi and Hello
How are you
And you and
You? All is
Well we each
Say out of
Politeness:
But really,
None of
Us are.
That is why
We attend
Group.
Each of us
Are damaged
In some way,
Or just have
A void in our
Lives. We each
Have a diagnosis,
Or two, or so.
So class begins
Late every day
Like clockwork,
And then it
Takes the entire
Session for one
Person to say
A few things
About themselves,
And we have
A few moments
To make comments
If the counselor
Allows any
Opinion but
Her own be
Expressed.
And then it's
Break time
And we all
Smoke our
Chosen
Poison because
It is scientifically
Proven that most
People with say,
Schizophrenia
Or Schizoaffective
Disorder or Bipolar
Disorder, (any type,)
Are addicted to nicotine
Because our nicotinic
Receptors are out of
Whack.
Then it's back to class,
Which starts late again
And another person
Gets a moment to share
Their uncertainty about
Their lives. And I have
To sit there with the
Answer in my head,
Because I am not
Allowed to speak
Anymore. I was
Told one too many
Times by the
Class that I
Make too
Much sense
To be a group
Member, and
Should teach
The class.
The counselors
Always hate
That sort of
Thing. They really
Hate it when you
Psychoanalyze
Them. Group
Is helpful, despite
It's many short-
Comings. Well,
I guess I better
Continue going,
Because I don't
Want to miss
Out on Jack's
Repeated *******'
About how Jill
Won't listen,
Or how Humpty
Can't lose weight
Despite a balanced
Diet. You know the
Type... A Diet Coke
In one hand, and a
Snickers bar in the
Other. We are all
UnBaLaNcE
d.
