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A Psychiatrist Asked Me to Draw Plans For My Self

Still, I found my fingers intertwined in the messiest knots I've never tied before
Still I heard the sound of the rain growing heavier outside these walls
Still I noticed that the artificial red flowers on the table was quite dusty in interesting way
Or those colors of candies in the jar have weirdly got me smiling
Or the pile of tissues I did not touch along the session

And I didn't mean to get distracted on purpose, no.
It's just, I felt the sudden urge to clean my nails with my nails and then regret the fact that I cut my nails short last night, so I couldn't really clean anything really, but, I managed to dig deeper

It was before I saw her watching me across the table, waiting.

Oh I wish I told her that I am originally a master mind; planning is as natural as breathing for me
Because it took me months to swallow my pride to finally sit here in this room
Took me tons of courage to show a stranger the pus on my wound
Took me forever to believe there is a way out

Letting my walls crashing down, I said,
I don't know. I don't have any.

And I feel bad about myself like I've always been
Feel bad for those people whose strings twisted with mine

Lisa, she sighed, you cannot hide storm in poems forever and expect you'll be just fine in the next morning

Yet here I am.

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