C.B.T

head throbbing

body shaking

heart pounding

tears breaking,

eyes look away,

struggling to stay.

I can hear the words she's saying

trying to get me to talk,

speaking of triggers, and self perception

but my mouth's dry as chalk.

I don't want to say

don't want to believe

that what she's written on paper

is how I perceive myself.

But it must be true,

that's what therapy is meant to do,

make you realise how you see yourself,

how all those times you were put on the shelf

and left alone, and picked one and teased,

how all those times you made yourself bleed

have left you with an imprint,

an idea in your mind

that no matter what you have to be kind,

and you have to be there and care

for everyone you know

to feel valid,

like you belong in anyones life

much less your own.

Those words on paper,

the truth is tough.

I'm not good enough.