People keep saying to me “you’re going to be okay”
“You’re going to be okay” “It’s going to be okay” “It will all be okay”
These words remind me of the razors that I used to tear my skin open with
The only difference is that the razors brought some sort of relief.
There’s no relief behind these words and if anything, it just makes everything worse.
They push me further back into the darkness, or maybe I let them, because if I’m far enough back,
They can’t see me.
If they can’t see me, they’ll never be disappointed in knowing that it never got better.
They say it with such assurance and some days I wish that I could believe them.
They tell me that my eyes will shine again someday, that someday I’ll smile with my teeth.
I stare in the mirror imagining what it will be like.
All I see are blackened eyes looking for an escape route
And a smile that’s been void of anything other than polite manners and a poor attempt of hiding the pain.