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therapy
March 22, 2015
my head cries in warning, an electric bolt shock of upset,
like the first clear scream of a child, the scream which
tears a mother’s heart from its ribcage and places it at her feet in fear
and oh, god, to feel my mind pounding at the bars of carefully constructed cages
(thus labelled, aptly, after my anxieties)
is a horror of its own--
comfort that mother, my sanity--
hire a nanny for my thoughts
© Anthony C., Shelby Twp, MI
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'Therapy' is quite a literal piece, written in a dark hour while wearing the shoes of the distraught.