God Is My Incompetent Shrink


United States
34° 11' 14.9964" N, 80° 49' 56.0748" W

Dude, you know I was raped, right?

No, I won’t go getting my hopes up in this life.

Hell, I don’t even like to show my face.

I want to rip it off and then have it sloppily replaced.

Like inexpensive fabric, I wish to tear myself apart.

All those bitches have fucked with my shattered heart.

On top of all that, I’m mentally digressing.

On the third of December, I am going to go chat it up with a psychologist.

I have occupational therapy with Emily every other week!

Yes, I am getting so personal here; I have a sensory disorder.

Also, I believe that my flow and writing kind of suck.

I don’t know if I am rhyming, or if I am just giving a crappy recital to myself.

Okay, it’s quite obvious that I am hopelessly depressed.

Well, to this girl here it is at least.

To anybody else, I have these elegant walls constructed.

I have built the ultimate castle of sorrow.

Some dragon is waiting to destroy this tower I am locked up in.

The oversized reptile could throw me in the crazy bin.

I have grown accustomed to my obsessive ways.

Many tasks are done in intervals of five.

I think my teachers consider that to be weird, maybe?

I have had OCD since I was a baby!

Nothing I do is ever enough.

I feel so awfully pretentious with all this poetry stuff.

I called the suicide prevention hotline on 9/11/14.

Why did I think that the guy on the line would care about me?

I then went back to high school and smiled like nothing happened, geez.

I aced all my core class tests.

I was simply told to try my very best.

What they all don’t know: I am a disguised cheat.

I have filled out so many damn college applications.

I feel that my ACT score and GPA define me.

If I don’t succeed in school, I will never succeed in life.

I’m ranked in the top of my class; however, those five letters have left their mental scars.

I feel like I am going to be a college dropout even with all my polluted gold stars.

But yeah, my English teacher said that I could be legendary.

I am now rambling to some false prophets.

If God doesn't believe in me, why should I believe in him?

Why should I believe in anybody?

Why should I believe in myself?

God is really just my incompetent shrink.

I tell him my problems, and like everybody else, he does nothing to comfort me.


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Photo credit: John M. Falk

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