survivors manchester

He Was My Therapist


by Ian

You were in power, you had authority, I was in your care
You built your confidence, you took my trust and planned a dare
I was an adult but like a child I was vulnerable and totally unaware
A weekly session in a relaxing safe space, I thought I had nothing to fear

I was unhappy with my life and I told you I wanted to improve
So you groomed me in a very subtle way, to make your next move
You told me about your wife, your family and your very professional life
But you failed to tell how you would destroy me and cause me such strife

I was respecting your work and believing you could save me from harm
You appeared a true gent, very English, with plenty of Cheshire charm
So how long had you planned it, how many others have you farmed?
When you wanted to physically examine me, why was I not alarmed?

But we were in a hospital, you told me you were also a practicing GP
But you were my therapist and that is what you were supposed to be!
I had barely stood up, when you were on your knees in front of me
Then it felt like the room was spinning and I could not properly see

You were stripping my jeans and my under-ware away
I felt top heavy and could not find the words to say
“What is your hand doing on my privates, get them away!”
Wanting to run but frozen, I longed for the ending of that day

Because of you, I have not trusted the medical world for about eleven years
But I have reported what you did and I have had therapy for all my fears
I may not have pounds worth of compensation for your crime you did commit
But please do tell me, how does your conscience with in you comfortably sit?

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