“are you okay?” they always ask,
and i nod, my answer rehearsed.
“i’m alright,” i say, though inside i ache,
the weight of it growing worse.

i wish they’d pause, just for a beat,
to catch the truth behind my eyes,
but they take my words and move along,
unaware of my quiet lies.

i want to say, “no, i’m not fine,”
to let my walls finally break,
but my voice betrays me every time,
and “alright” is all i can fake.

how did it become so hard to speak,
to let someone see my pain?
i’m tired of pretending, but i don’t know how,
so i say “alright” again.