i'm trying to be my own hero

whispering "it's okay"

out to the cold night and in

to the chill

that seems to line my veins nowadays
                                                                          

"it's alright"                                                
                                                    

holding in the sighs

shying away from eyes

how many times have i

told myself "you'll be fine"
                                                                          

"it's okay to cry"                                                


but i drench my pillow every

night, and beyond the eighth-

floor window is a world

separate from

here (consider the fall)


"smile"

i do smile,

my own hero,

remember?


(well, only fairytales have

happy endings;

and twisted storylines

are beyond saving)