The front gate is open.
You needn’t even knock.
Everything you’re seeking is right here.
Walk through my city—
its streets cracked, its walls worn thin.

You ride in, asking “Are you okay?”
Your voice is warm, your intentions pure.
The city looks broken.
“I’m fine. I’ll fix it.”
But who am I kidding?
I’m not fine.
My inner sanctum is leveled,
my heart crushed,
my life force drained.

You nod as though reassured,
admiring the scaffolding and fresh paint.
“You’re strong,” you say,
then gallop off to your next quest.
But you didn’t stay long enough
to notice the rubble behind the walls.

Don’t just stop at “I’m okay.”
Because I’m not.
I can’t share the crumbling walls behind the fresh paint
I don’t know how.
But I do need help.

You saw the scaffolding and thought it was enough.
You didn’t see the cracks spreading beneath.
You didn’t see how the darkness still presides,
smothering the streets,
hiding in the corners of my heart.

I’m getting worse,
Even if I look like I'm healing.
This darkness must be dispelled,
But you’ve already ridden away,
Your banner bright against the sky.

Of course,
you meant well.
But you never looked deep enough to see.