Depressed, I went to see a shrink,
And on his couch I bared my soul.
Could he pull me back from the brink
Of jumping into a black hole.
Did my mother abandon me,
Filling me with issues of trust?
Did I feel a nonentity
Making me overeat and lust?
But the shrink just sat there and stared,
Inattentive to my squealed cries,
Not taking notes on oinks I bared.
I saw the hunger in his eyes.
I had to fire that shrink, cuz damn,
He only saw me as a ham.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem