If my body’s not sickly
How will you know
That my mind’s not okay

I still gasp for breath
I still fight for the air
Healthy lungs burning.

One heavy leaf on a sharp frozen branch
Scared of the fall
Winter has come
I want to let go
To surrender to spring
But the meanwhile’s so cold

I can’t expect understanding
Of the bareness of soul
Shielded by porcelain skin
A white plaster smile

Blinking back tears
Instinctive response to kind words
That veer off the mark
Slide past the pain

The band aid’s smooth plastic
A flimsy protection
For the raw wound concealed

Ornate shaky letters
Embossed on crepe paper

Will I be okay?

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