You’re in my couch
I’m listening to your problems
I’m a shrink
I don’t do this to help you
I do it for me
I do it to feel the hunger in my soul
The couch you’re so comfortable in
The reason why you come back every week
It drains your pain
Pain on which I feed
The tissues wipe your tears
Drink that makes me high
The sounds of your despair and anguish
They take me to a place
A place where all is sad
Where no one smiles
All is tears and all is bland
My most happy place.
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