this one says
she suffers from
narcissistic notions,
he's afraid he has no potions
to remedy her pain
from being less
than only.

the other
disagrees, speaks
of imminent danger;
evil, addiction, she tells her
draws itself unto you...
surrender now,
Dorothy.

the doctor
prescribes more pills,
dismissing such nonsense
in favor of diagnosis:
biochemical flaw,
nothing more and
nothing less.

the one she
calls her wizard
pulls the magic curtain,
tells her in terms more than certain
that she has the power
to click her heels,
get back home.

the "little
lepracaun" tries
costly talk therapy,
says there's nothing wrong,
they're playing tricks, can't you see?
wishing they were
more like you.

on the ward
they tell her
dysfunctional systems
are at the root of her problems,
she's been planted where she
cannot grow and
must let go.

the mirror
reflects stark truth,
the hurt inside shows through.
it doesn't really matter who
says what is wrong; she's been
shrink-wrapped one too
many times.