Am I okay?
No, I'm not.
Will I be fine?
No, I will not.
Why do I ask?
Do I even care?
Remember, this is just a book,
Where all things are fake.
Where all things are fantasy,
Mixed with dashes of reality.
Where all things are reality,
Covered with bits of fantasy.
This is just a book,
A small little nook.
One that holds my heart,
Yet also tears it apart.
Am I okay?
No, I'm not.
Am I ever okay?
No, I'm never.
Are we okay?
No, we aren't.
We are never okay,
For pain worms it's way in.
We are never okay,
For our hearts still beat different.
We are never okay,
For our memories take place.
Are we okay?
No, we are not.
Am I okay?
No, I am not.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryJust some rants by me. Maybe I'll publish my sucky old ones, maybe I won't. You'll never know.
