Am I okay?
Yes, I'm fine.
I'm smiling and I'm laughing.
I'm holding on to my hopes.
I'm dreaming away my days.
Am I happy?
Sure, if you want me to be.
I can be lively and energetic,
if that is what you need from me.
I'll save the fears for when i'm alone.
That's what you want, isn't it?
I can wait until you're gone to press self-destruct,
if you'd like me to.
How are you, anyway?
Are you quite alright?
Or are you like me?
Do you wait until every set of judging eyes is turned?
And then do you cry?
Do you have to take a deep breath,
scrunch up your face and reply yes when your heart is screaming for help?
Why am I squeezing your hand?
If you look past my tight grin and wide eyes,
You'll see that my eyes are dull and lifeless.
And holding your hand so tight shows me that I'm still here.
It reminds me that I still have something to hold on to.
Holding your hand is me telling you that I need you, when I'm too weak to ask.