Don't look under my nails

it's good to talk about that, that awful feeling you didn't mean to have, with people you trust (but not who made you feel like this) and hear them saying i'm not crazy or wrong for feeling this way. it's good to sing and realize i'm not a full bag of mistakes. it's good to lay down on bed and forget all of my stupid fears. listen to some music, read poems and stories, breathe and just breathe, for only a minute just breathe. slowly. it's just not enough to make me feel like i'm enough.

i'm still seeing those dead cats in the middle of the road. this road i barely started to know. i'm still looking at the mirror and not okay with what's there. still broken. still messed up. still insecure and empty and a little bit sad.

you ask me if i'm okay
and the truth is i don't know
is that a smile or a mask?

how can that be right?

i'm scared, completely scared
of when it's all completely dark
except for the colorful lights
and for the fire inside my drunk bones

then when the sun return
if you're right in front of me
you'll say
god you have the saddest pair of eyes i've ever seen

i will say
why would you think that
and i'll make jokes until you laugh
but my heart will say
yes.