I'm fine"
The response,
a sconce.

People echo this to escape the outcry.
The cry they hold on to tightly behind that damaged brick wall
they use to stall.

Only the holder knows the deceive,
while people around them believe.

I'm not fine; I’m hanging by a thread, so thin,
With the weight of the world pressing down from within.
This fragile line frays, I can feel it unwind,
While tangled webs clutter the depths of my mind.

Empty yet twisted, so fragile, so tight,
In a space that feels hollow, with barely a light.

"Will I ever break free? Will I make it alive?"
These questions keep echoing, trapped in my mind.
Instead of a rise, I'm caught in a dive,
Descending a staircase, steep and unkind.
"Am I fine?"