I’m Fine. (Spoken Word)

I’m fine.

Two words and one sentence.

So perfect to pull out when

they ask how you are.

Because no one really cares.

You’re just a bullet on their

check list.

Just another person,

just another human.

I thought the scars on me

were small bumps of strength,

but they were where a razor

had sliced across my skin.

It was the only way I could

let the pain in.

My make up was a smile

and some foundation.

Just enough to get them

off my back.

Because I was carrying a

rucksack but I didn’t need

help.

A rucksack with everyone’s

else’s pain because I

was the one who was always

on top.

I never dropped helping them

for myself.

I was just the help they

needed.

And I was the weed that I’d

forgotten about.

I’d forgot to dig myself up and

bin my old self,

but my emotions were stacked away.

Cast onto some high up shelf.

So I took a selfie to forget

the pain inside, but then I

noticed the difference in

my face.

I used to think the purple under my eyes

was from being tired,

but then I realised that it was the

sadness taking control of

I could no longer smile,

it was crooked and it looked

fake.

And that’s when it clicked,

I was fake.

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