My shrink has very stylish shoes.
Some times mauve.
But always neat dainty and shined.
I watch them as they bounce up and down when she listens to me talk.
My eyes are torn between staring at her shoes and the button on the sleeve of my shirt which I am twisting.
Suicide was not a choice I thought I would ever contemplate
Never thought I would be stuck feeling like it was the only way to escape my self-hate
Or that death was the only way to find freedom from my self-destructive ways
And never thought self-harm would be a way I released my anguish and...