#7- Bullshit.A Poem by PaperFrom master to apprentice.
I sit in that same chair, again.
First time in a good while. Looking out the same window, again. In front of a man I've known Since I was a child. "It's bullshit. You know that, right?" I know I've told you A little bit, about My parents. About growing up. I don't know If I ever mentioned him, Miss. My therapist. My mentor. The man who made my career. And who was arguably more Father than my own. "I don't mean to invalidate Your feelings. But it's bullshit." We speak bluntly. Sometimes. When it's needed. "Anyway, I'm glad you came back. I'm happy to see you again. I just wish we had more time. I'm retiring in May." I look at the cars passing Down the street outside. And tighten my grip On the all too familiar armrests. Of an all too familiar chair. In an all too familiar office. As the pain in my chest returns. "And I'm not disappointed. Not at all. You know, I always thought You were One of the people I was 'passing the torch to.'" I look him in the eye. Quiet. "We'll get through this."
© 2017 PaperAuthor's Note
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3 Reviews Added on April 8, 2017 Last Updated on April 8, 2017 Tags: relationships, romance, depression, heartache, therapy AuthorPaperOHAboutI'm 50% hoping That you find this, Someday, Miss. And 50% hoping That you never do. That you never know the truth. And all the feelings And thoughts I'll Never Directly Tell you.... more..Writing
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