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)