I did not die.
I am in the wind.
Breathe me in,
fill your lungs.
Release me to the sky.

I did not die.
I am here.
Feel my touch.
It is for you.
Give me a try.

I did not die.
For I was never alive.

Here I am, trying to convince the world,
trying to convince you,
trying to convince myself, that
I am fine.
A three-word sentence that hides the pain;
not from oneself but from watching eyes.
My troubles stack one on top of the other
forming a skyscraper that burdens me.
Each day it grows bigger and taller
until it collapses
as did the towers on 9/11,
as it does right on top of me.