Therapy Poem by Georgia Hindmarch

they used to tell me
that they could help me
i was sat in a box of a room
with an unfamiliar lady
a coffee table riddled with stains
and a strategically placed tissue box
that bridged the gap between us

somehow, i was supposed
to expose my scarred soul to her
even though i could not
remember her name

'i can help to fix you' she said
and i started to cry like a baby
not because i was grateful
but because that was the biggest lie
i had ever been told.