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Writer's pictureMary Hutchison

An appointment with Justin

I have a daily appointment, a form of therapy,

with exercise thrown in. My very own counsellor,

sets me up for the day; he goes by the name of Justin


As I listen to his songs, I wonder if he knows my life

All the heartaches and the things that no one knows,

the almost fatal blows


He shouts as he sings these tales of woe

and I wonder, did he live next door to me,

as I cried the tears, worrying

what would become of me


Those little lines you can see; I’ve written poems,

a sort of exorcism, until the tears dried up

And the anger, well a swim helps dispel

all that negative energy


But his songs reveal his angst and woe,

and he represents all the broken hearts,

dispelling the pain in a four minute refrain


All those feelings that cut you like a knife;

he describes the pain with such accuracy,

opening his heart, revealing his misery


I’ve been wheeled to the theatre;

I’ve seen the big light, as they pull it round

It was a good result, a baby weighing seven pounds

An just as I thinkI know him well,

I discover a new song, one that tells another

chapter of my story, and I think, what the hell?


How did he know that I said,

don’t come back?

The narcissist, who leaves for a while,

until they need your supply

has finally been expelled

Let life begin again


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