Has her therapy gone wrong?
Upon the sterile, neutral walls,
The ticking clock of healing falls.
I sat upon the leather chair,
To lay my ragged spirit bare.
I sought a balm, a guiding light,
To help me through the endless night.
Instead, the gentle mask came down,
Replaced by judgment’s iron crown.
The one ordained to heal and mend
Became a judge, a foe, a friend
Who twisted truth and turned the blade,
And used the sacred trust we made.
With venom tipped in clinical guise,
They looked into my pleading eyes
And tore the fragile self apart,
To pierce the center of my heart.
"You are the author of your pain,"
They hissed like acid in my brain.
"Too weak, too loud, too much, too small,"
They built a wall to watch me fall.
The phrases meant to help me grow
Were hurled as weapons from below—
A mockery of helping hands,
Enforcing cruel, unwritten demands.
They shamed the scars I dared to show,
And mocked the grief I used to know.
With poisoned words and cold disdain,
They traded therapy for pain.
No sanctuary found in here,
Just amplification of my fear.
I walked in seeking space to breathe,
To find the strength to heal and weave.
I staggered out with shattered pride,
With nowhere left for truth to hide.
The room was meant for mending bones,
Instead, they stoned me with their tones.
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Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: July 31st, 2026 08:57
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 33
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Paul Bell, peto, Tristan Robert Lange, turningpoint
Offline)
Comments9
Sad a view of treason and betrayal from the condemned. So hard to see beyond prison walls when one is kept within a stone cell. This one tears the heart. When one is hurt by what one turns to as helping hands and they only deliver pain. Very nicely written with good rhyme and meter. A deeply soul searching poem and a fave
Never assume the person you're talking to is the one to help.
I suppose in the end, no one is coming for you.
This is probably why people don't seek help, and why we go to the grave nuts.
Good write F.
The/rapist
Screwing heads
Your writing friendship is something more than a read
The reader can feel it
Another fav for me
Beautiful poem, yet heartbreaking.
My friend, this speaks to one of the hardest realities…when trust is broken by someone we’re told we can safely lean on, the damage reaches far beyond the moment itself. You captured that ache with honesty. Beautifully done. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
This poem is striking in its emotional intensity, capturing a deep sense of betrayal where trust was meant to be sacred. The contrast between the expectation of healing and the experience of harm gives it a sharp, painful edge, and the imagery of clinical language turned weapon makes the impact even stronger.
I'm sorry this happened to you. No one deserves that! As someone who also relates a lot to these words: just remember that it gets a lot better the more you meet people who actually want what's best for you. Remember your worth!
So heart rending and relatable. Beautifully expressed 👌💅
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