I didn't need her wrenching fists
Or ironclad arms
Inveterated by a punching bag
A child,
A punching bag
My ardent screams called to you
And I saw the tears you tried to hide
By whipping your head so jurkedly away
I didn't need the third therapist,
Or the fifth
I needed the sixth
The one the doctors made me see
Because she finally told them all
That I never needed any of them —
But just to be
Finally, accepted as me.
The thing I begged you for
I found somewhere else
And I gave it to myself