All the emotions, all the pain, all the memories grow and shift to a burning flame flickering against my skin. The burns stay seen, but the pain goes deeper.
You ask, "are you ok?" The response you want is "I'm ok" so that's what you get, but it's not the truth. No longer can you see the flame, it's hidden by the wooden shelter I made. Soon you'll ask me, "are you ok?" and my response won't be what you want to hear.
The truth? I've lied to myself for so long simply saying, "I'm ok" that the truth itself seems like a lie.
What are you supposed to do when what you think is right, isn't what you truly believe.
By the time I call for help, the flames have become a roaring monster. I can't do this alone, I never could. The structure I made from wood crumbles away leaving the monster to only grow stronger.
I ask now for you to simply hold my hand as I fight the monster inside my mind.
So when you ask, "are you ok" I won't lie anymore. Instead, I'll raise my head and say, "No, but I will be."
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetrySome poems I think of on the spot! Read the latest ones! This book has been on here for almost 5 years so writing styles have changed for the better.
