Categories
Poetry

Doctor Doctor

I don’t need an outlet.
Fuck off, doctor.
You only know what I tell you.
And I don’t tell you all that I do.
I’m a vault for the things
That need a home.
Like all of my black, unrelenting pain
Dragging me under, leading to more of the same.
I only come to talk
About the feelings that have words
Because the ones down in the hole
Are too hard to describe and tear at my soul.
So take what I offer
And try to help, please.
I pay for your empathy and your ear,
Not to be lectured and doused with good cheer.

© 2021 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

By jebrownwriter

Houston, TX-based Writer and Photographer. Proud pet rescuer who spends nearly all his money on them.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s