THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
I am easily derailed
My defences held for a year, and now they crumble in front of me, warn out from all the poison they conceal
I weep in the basement of the psychotherapy unit, hoping to be consoled, receiving nothing, And I say,
I don't want to look at all of this on my own, I don't want to reveal it just for myself,
I want to show it to someone and be helped to heal,
Maybe it will make the suffering worth it, I can't do it just for myself,
And I'm met with averted eyes and I clean up my eyes and step back into the sunshine, with headphones in and a heavy sigh