I am
Okay
Most days
Turn the page
See flecks of blood
Coat the seams of this chapter
I am
Oh Kay
Which is like Okay
Except there’s a bit more
SPACE to change my mind
I am
Alright
Mostly
Kind of
Broken sometimes
But still pushing

I am
Ohkay
Cause there’s no space
But I’m not
.Okay.

I feel like I’m on fire.
Limbs shaking, fingers slick with guilt and anticipation.
I can’t continue to put myself through this, but I also understand that I can’t just leave you behind to your own devices.
It’s been seven years since I became your savior.
Seven years since I became your crutch.
Thirteen years old, losing hold on my innocence as you held on to me like I was your life source.
The only solid thing holding you down to the ground.

In some ways, I was happy to help you.
Days turned in to years, I felt my first taste of heart break, my first real taste of fear.
The strange exhilarating rush of childish intimacy wrapped in the hands of a meddling boy, and you stuck beside me, as mothers should.
I thank you for that.

I’ve been ****** dry.
Seven years of listening to you pull yourself apart.
Seven years of me growing deeper into being a self sufficient woman; sharing my secrets and my advice in hopes of pulling you closer.
In hopes of pulling you back to the surface.

Three years ago, you picked up the bottle.
Three years ago, you gave up on being a mother because you said that you didn’t know how to be.
Three years ago, you gave me the ohkay go to become an independent person.
Three years ago, you strapped chains to my core and began living vicariously through me and my stories, and I obliged.

I tried to save you.
I begged you to stop drinking.
I pleaded to you.
Please come back. Please be my mother again. Please help me, because I’m lost, and I don’t know how to come back.
But you didn’t know how to come back either, and I held on to your hands as you cried and told me that you were just as lost.

i always thought i had it all figured out
and there wasn't anything to think about
all i wanted was my skin to be branded
and liked it a little rough-handed
but craved the aftercare
where
you'd caress the marks that you painted,
my pale pure skin with your tongue you tainted,
and then you'd hold me in your arms
help my heart beat calm
so that i could sleep in silence
with my mind at peace
keeping away all the ugly violence
so our bliss-bubble won't be breached
yet today i have learnt that i can't have both
if you'll be tender you won't be able to control
this wild blood that makes me do stuff
that is even more harmful than "poison puff"

either you will be sweet and sound
or you'll be an anti-hero with hounds
either your love will make me feel blessed
or with me you'll be obstinately obsessed
either you will want to be gentle with me
or you would help me see
that i am not sick for harbouring these desires
even though burnt, it's ohkay to long for fire

and this is what i don't get
because if i let
you in with no out
all i will do is panic
making our budding romance tragic
because i am a living breathing paradox
built of a spectacular range of blocks
wanting to be tamed
yet afraid
if i set this passion free
i will drown in lustful seas
but if i chain it in
i will be faking
so what should i do i don't know
be like water that goes with the flow
or be the storm i was born to be
scarring yet surreal in all its serenity?

Im sensitive
I cry
I seem to **** up a good hunk of things
Im afraid ill die a hopeless romantic

somedays i hate people around me
and somedays i hate myself be
am i the problem or is it the world i see
suffocating people pretending to set them free
what is it? this thought keeps me awake
in my turbulent turmoil do i shake
because loving him isn't getting me anywhere
but putting a lock on my emotions isn't fair
since i want to be different, a good human
great and perfect who's too busy to have fun,
is working hard to become successful and no. 1
a product of pain who chose to become better like the sun
but i fail everydamnday, everydamnway
by expecting too much from my battered body, which isn't ohkay
i think too much, act too little
fracturing my feelings, my heart so brittle
it's not good to be this person that i am
breathing in order to make everything work a/c to my meticulous plan
but **** if i know what's right or wrong anymore
i am exhausted to my very core
the sad part is that i'm nowhere closer to what i want
and this doesn't let me sleep, every night this haunts
yet i lay in my bed, wasting away day after day
and i have no words left to say
i can't die but i ain't living either
i am pathetic, i know thats what you think reader
my past holds on to me so strongly that i play it on loop
the future makes me anxious, so in my eyes do i stoop
be the same old dumb ****** that i have always been
my potential dying before it could ever be seen
just crossing out dates on my phone's ******* calendar
wrong profession, wrong attitude, wrong is my ******* gender