Do you feel sad?
Are you okay?
Are you alright?*

...do you really want to know?
Perhaps I should fill you in.
After all I'm filling to the brim
with repressed emotion, why not
make a rotation,
for your private freak show.

Go ahead and try to demean me.

I don't feel sad,
I feel worse.
I am filled with the
emptiness of
humanity.
Trapped within this
bubble of skin.
I am still disconnected,
unattached,
'free'.
I am, frankly, desolate.

I'm not okay.
My ****** functions
may
lie normal,
my vitals may be
strong,
but I am not 'okay'.
Who are you to say,
just what constitutes okay?
My life may seem fantastic
to you, but hiding
my emotion
is nothing new to
me. I am, after all, an
expert you see.
Why can't you just allow me to
be? without ripping to show
that which makes me
me.

I will never be alright,
this tight ball of
anxiety is
lodged in my throat
an invisible moat
separates me from
the ones my loneliness longs
to reach.
I am beached, on the shores
of my mind.
Desperately hoping for
someone to find me,
desperately hoping that this
time, their actions will
be kindly.

Stop asking questions
you've already made an
answer too.
Don't attack me for showing
weakness, this rot
goes deeper than you will
ever know.
Allow me time to sew the smile
on my face, to deface the battle scars
I should wear with pride.

Unlike you, I wear my medals inside.

I am strong, and I've had to be
for longer than you will ever know.
And, without your 'sympathy' I shall
continue to grow.

I shall be better than you will ever see.