We sit and share out darkest thoughts;
our subconscious clutching triggers
that other people fire without comprehension.
As we ask vexatious questions
gathered in our coterie;
brief glances of perturbation are exchanged
but we all knew what we let ourselves in for.
They look perplexed,
others downcast.
Some look content
Many seem oblivious.
I, myself, feel pride.
Never would I have imagined this;
sitting in a circular subset whilst my heart pounds.
Agonizing adrenaline and anxiety,
pumping vast amounts of blood to my brain.
Yet, it is contained, subdued (although rigidly)
My palms are clammy and my breathing shallow;
but as people clasp and prise open their inner demons,
I feel a sense of relief from my inner conflict.
I am not alone.
However apologetically inclined I feel
towards other people’s misery;
reassurance is the feeling I grasp.
Individuals speak of past obstacles
they are still struggling to hurtle through.
Others speak of inflicting harm to themselves or others.
Many speak of the pressure that clouds their minds
as they struggle to function like a normal human being.
Now the tick-tock counts our final few minutes
and my symptoms start to subside.
But by now I feel desiccated.
As we rise to leave, brief glances of relief are exchanged
and a slow but rapidly increasing mumbling emits.
I find solace in the sound.