"You'll be fine," They told me.
"It'll be okay," They said.
But did they hear the words they called me?
Did they hear the things they said?

Have they lived a life of torture?
Perhaps they've felt deranged?
Have they gone and hid in the corner
wanting desperately to change?
Is okay the pounding on my chest interrupting my sobs
Or the unforgiving silence that taunts me at night
Is it the feeling of being stuck and jagged while everyone else is free and harmonious
Is being okay being short of breath and not knowing if you can make it to the next one
Or the tremendous noise my thoughts make as they stomp around in my head at night
Is it the pure knowing that something isn’t right, but never figuring out what
If so, then yes.
I’m perfectly okay.
Mike Hentges Mar 5
I'm not okay
and thats okay.
Sometimes its okay to not be okay.
Astra Mar 3
Fine is a word with many different definitions.

Fine, is when you're so empty inside you wonder if you could even call it aside,

Fine, is a broken neckless weighed down by broken hearts.

Fine, the feel of forgottenness.

Fine, is when the world puts one more thing on that girl's shoulder, and she knows she just can't bare.

It's funny when most people say fine is just a way of saying nothing interesting is going on.

But everyone knows when the word fine flies from her mouth, it like a butterfly with broken wings.

The girl who stumbles home late from the bar to mask the fine feeling of self-hatred in her soul.

Fine, is a feeling of having one too many thoughts and naturally assuming this guy the same.

He brought her home sat her down, "How are you feeling my dear?

"I'm fine.. she says the light strikes and the tornado turns faster and faster,

The earth rattles with fear of what is next.

Fine, is a mother calling her daughter on her birthday only of find out, she passed out in an empty bar.

Fine, is remembering her friend asking for her to come and she feels bad to say no but remember that fine feeling.

The pain of tomorrow will no longer be felt because truthful that fine feel soon took over.

It buried her deep in thoughts so much to think about, so much to do, So yes when the time came to give an answer she said she was fine.

Because fine was the only thing left to say at her funeral when her friends asked what happened.

She was just fine.

Never good, or okay.

She was fine.

Fine for too long.

Fine until she was gone.
layanibagi Feb 22
The irony of having no idea what to write about pain
When that's what I feeling all these time
The jokes you gave
The waves of laughter you received
The fakeness of them all
The insecurities we feel
I hope you notice
I hope you understand
I hope you feel
I hope you see
I hope you don't
Whenever you touch me
A small hope arises
Then I see her
Now my dreams are scattered, forgotten
My desire grows every day
Telling them I know what I am doing
When I actually don't
Telling them I am okay
When I am really not
First draft: 0819116
Edit: 021117
This was heavily edited when it came here. The first draft was too cheesy, even I don't want to read it. I mean I know this is also cheesy (there's also the fact that it's for the guy I like) but I hope you could still like it :)
Ryan M Hall Feb 22
I’m stoned in a California basement. The hot, stale, air circulates through a table fan. The world melts away.

I’m left with just my thoughts.
Usually I’d be freaking out right about now,
But the fly on my guacamole is whispering the secrets to the universe. I listen to him hum, he says that I’m doing fine. That just because I faced this blunt to myself doesn’t mean I have to have a bad time.

He’s right. Usually I’d ruin it by getting existential.

As I draw deeper into my own self I understand Plato’s perfect forms theory and collective consciousness. Or whatever.

I giggle at my small hands.
“Was I always this small?”
“Yeah. Since day one. A premature baby who’s lungs could have given out any moment.”
“Huh. Wild.”
“It takes a lot to be alive, I guess.”
“Oh hey,

That’s kind of deep.”
I'm in a car and It's starting to sink
I'm struggling to breath, Emotions drowning me
I'm grasping for breath, Trying to scream
But nothing comes out, I'm just by myself
Nothing I can do,Knowing no one is coming to help
 And it's all my fault,
Twisted thoughts, bruised hearts, open scars        
 I tempted suicide,Couldn't never plunge the knife
I did not choose this life
But it's my choice if I live or die
and i'm still deciding
Jean Lewis Feb 18
If you ask me,
"How are you?"
I'll answer, "I'm Okay"

But please set me free
If I were to be true,
Slowly I decay

So reach out that hand, I guess
But know that I'm a mess
I barely do my best,
But perhaps in you I'll find some rest

So ask me once more
"How are you?"
I'll still answer, "I'm Okay"

So hug me tight as if at world's end
And tell me, "It's fine... I know you're not, your heart has a huge dent."
If that happens, please forgive me if I cry

Because up until now, I lived telling myself everyday
"Things are gonna be okay,
I am Okay"

And that is my little stage play
In reality, I no longer see the light of today
and I hope meeting you
will help me become true
True to say one day that I am
"Finally, really... okay..."
-Jean Lewis
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