im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im fine
but the scissors cut deeper and deeper every time
im ok
im ok
im ok
im fine
but lying in by bed, i start to think its my time
im ok
i say
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
































im not

I mean...
You could’ve left me at the altar.
It could be worse than this.

Despite my heart dripping through
My broken rib cage...
It could be worse than this.

One day of feeling like I’m being
Crushed and flattened into mud.
But it’s okay,
Because I refuse to be worse than this.

Take this blank canvas
and make it your masterpiece
with pops of color

How scary it is-
To realize
None of this is truly mine.
Not these things,
Not this life.

Time is my master,
She owns it all.
I cannot keep any of it.

I wondered,
How could the great Artists and Writers,
Give in to depression.
Had they not feel their art within,
Or had their art not heal them in?
If only had they blend with the strokes,
Fused themselves with the Prose.
Would they have been here?
Why would they disappear?
I got my answer for it all,
When this poem’s end called.

They talk
In the name
Of god
And Jesus,
They walk
The walk
And wear
Their suits,
I don’t
Believe
Their pretty
Words,
Or their
Gospel,
I try to
Stay away
From
All that,
But if evil
Does roam
Around,
It’s them.