The First Therapy Session

I step inside
The room where you
Dissect people
Without touching them
And where you expect me
To bleed out too
Eventually.

But I'm interviewing you
To see
If you can handle
My personal brand
Of sarcasm, calculated remarks
And swearing
I'm polite
But
I'm testing
Just as I expect you to be.
I'm telling you
They're the tools
We're both going to need.

We both smile
But understand
The unspoken protocol
That I've come with a plan
To remain intact
And invulnerable
I sneer at the box
Of tissue papers
You place near
Because you really
Don't know me
At all yet.

But after twenty minutes
Even I realise
You're actually quite kind
And genuine
You seem to understand
That the world
Is fucked up
And still you really believe
You can change it
So I decide to give you a chance
To prove
Whether
You're delusional
Or emotionally advanced.




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