I have found lately that I am in need of some therapy.



Now, some choose to go and speak to others about their issues,

Sitting on comfy, overpriced furniture while higher ups

Nodding their heads in agreement

Eyebrows pinched downward with discomfort,

Waiting to hear the “Powers-That-Be” say

“Times Up.”


To find a co-worker to listen to the woes of the world,

Ones who will give a sympathetic ear

Just to work their jaws

To others in gossip,

With small smirks curling up at 

The ends of tongue-licked lips,

Totally pushing one deeper into a depression,

A cavern of darkness,

To feelings of nowhere.


I chose to write.

That natural outlet for disturbed, warped in thought individuals,

People trapped in thoughts that can not be shared

To the average man.

To just type and listen to the sound of the keys

Under one’s fingertips.

The rhythm of knowing that words can

Drop out of the soul like

Rain splattering on the pavement in an unannounced

Spring storm in May.


That’s therapy.

In honor of Maya Angelou-Thank you for allowing me to see that poetry is the way to give one’s thoughts from deep within one’s soul.

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