Therapy Session #316

I tell my therapist my brother killed himself

She asks if I am angry, I say no


She wants to know what I am

Jealous, I say

My therapist asks me if I am suicidal


I say no, I only want to die every day

She fails to see the difference


I insist that she is wrong

The gap is monumental


If I were a planner, perhaps, or a warrior at heart

My brother was a planner, for all of his flaws


Where I am merely a dreamer, all wants and desires

But I am a bright orange cone on the highway with my eyes closed

A slippery when wet while pouring water in the streets.


My therapist says why fear, if you are not afraid to die

She doesn’t understand it isn’t death I fear

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