How Can You Help Me Pt. I: Psychology 101 Lessons From the Quiet Room

The quiet room waits for me

Slow hum

Low drum

Soft plea

And the question keeps circling me

Can you help me  

Or am I asking the air  

To fix what I carry endlessly.  

I sit in the center

Thin light like a splinter

A winter  

Cut across the floor

Glowing more  

Than the answers I store  

But never enter

My thoughts line up in rows  

Ghost shaped shadows

With borrowed clothes

Each one raising its hand  

Like it knows  

The question beneath my throat 

Can you help me  

Even when I don’t disclose

The silence writes notes  

On the chalkboard of my chest

Letters pressed

Confessed

A test  

I fail even when I try my best 

And still the question beats

Can you help me  

Echoing under every breath

A clock taps its foot

Impatient root

Wanting truth  

I keep mute

My voice a locked drawer  

With keys that turn into  

Memories I stored  

But never restored

And the question scratches the door 

Can you help me  

Or am I asking for more  

Than I’m ready for

The room leans in

Asks why I spin  

Storms within  

Pockets meant for calm

Why I palm  

Pain like a charm  

I think can keep me warm

And the question rises again 

Can you help me  

Soft as a psalm  

I breathe slow

Let the air glow

Feel it flow  

Like a lesson I don’t yet know

And my shadow writes lines  

That rhyme my mind 

Trying to find  

The question I hide 

Can you help me  

The one I never say outside

And when the session ends

The door bends

Pretends  

It understands  

I’m not ready to leave

But I stand

Quiet in my hand  

Hoping the question lands 

Can you help me  

Before it slips like sand