I'm great, fine, spectacular. In a way I relish every night, and I live every day.
I live, I laugh, I write, I sing.
I wonder what the new days will bring.
Then I get home, and I take off the mask.
The day, and almost impossible task, is finally over, so I lie down and wait patiently for the day that I die.
I cry, I scream, I bawl, and sleep, even though I have promises to keep. I wait, and wonder, and cry some more, and I ache and burn from my very core.
Then I'm not alone, and the mask reappears:
Out goes the grief, pain, and all of the tears,
As I am a happy person, cheerful all the day.
A world full of rainbow, not one shade of grey.
Of course I'm not okay, I'm not fine, no matter how much I seem to shine.
I don't even know why I feel this... Why my existence is one long, endless abyss.
But it is and will be, so I cling to life, as one day I might slip and end it with a knife.
But I'm still here, no matter what my dreams might say, and I hope that one day I will actually be okay.
