the storm that brings the calm
red wells up on my arm
this is in my control
everything else is the harm
everywhere I go
people dole out advice
trying to tell me what to do
alternatives that won’t suffice
I need the release
in my own way I get it too
it may be wrong in your eyes
but I am not you
battle scars line up
my arms are full of them
they tell a story of where I’ve been
and from where the pain must stem
but I haven’t got the words
to put to the bright red scream
and I only float away
as if I’m in a dream
Therapy Bits 