The Tables Are Turning

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a short poem about my experience in the first and only group therapy session I was coerced into attending by my parents.

Submitted: January 13, 2016

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Submitted: January 13, 2016

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Sitting here in this foreign place, nervous and irritable

Why am I here again? Oh yes, they told me enough was enough

Rehab and psychologists didn’t work....inconceivable

Apparently I am the problem and they have it rough

 

The group therapist begins talking, I barely notice

Same thing I’ve heard a thousand times before

Withdrawal, honeymoon, maintenance, adjustment, acceptance

I start counting the books stacked neatly on the floor

 

I’m numb, I show no emotion; I just answer questions

The responses are automatic, I’d don’t need to think

Do you know how this affects your relations?

They are at their wits end, they’re on the brink

 

Still blank and cold inside; I watch their mouths flap

They speak as if they understand; they clearly don’t

They invited me here; this was a setup, a trap

Do they honestly think this will change anything? It won’t

 

Then I find myself startled; the therapist turns on them

Their eyes widen, fists clenched; I’m laughing cynically

Watching as he tells them from where my problems stem

I can see their confusion; evidence presented empirically

 

So now they know and my satisfaction is clear

You thought it was me, the tables are turning

Once oblivious and ignorant but now you’re aware

This is what you get for blindly judging


© Copyright 2019 Christopher Kush. All rights reserved.

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