You say you're okay.
I know you're not.
But maybe you are.
Maybe you don't want to be okay.
Maybe those feelings of loss and hurt are addicting.
Like painful cigarettes, smokey and blurring your vision. Clouding your judgement.
Maybe you are okay.
But truthfully you're not.
Because none of us are.
We all have problems. Maybe we scraped our elbows and they hurt, or we drank just one too many shots, or maybe our parents are falling apart because they just can't find a system that works. Maybe we're too hungry, or too sad or too broken.
But maybe we're okay.
Maybe it's the happy feelings that are addicting.
Instead of pinpricks of cigarettes we get pops of bubble gum.
Maybe we're okay.
YOU ARE READING
Poems, Stories, And Unorganized Messes
Cerita PendekShort stories, poems, snippets, scraps, scripts, and more...whatever I feel like writing. Kind of a dumpster where I just dump what I'm thinking, but it doesn't smell as bad. I hope. Copyright 2014 (c) by DiscardedOpus13 All rights reserved. No part...
