Is it really life when you only feel like death.
Is it really death when you're starving to break away from the darkness that clouds everything.
Is it really darkness if, when you close your eyes, you see a spark of light.
Is it really light that you are holding onto, desperate, afraid, and alone.
Is it alright to be desperate?
Or afraid?
Alone.
Is it alright to have hope, even if it's so minuscule, it can be crushed in an instant.
Is it okay to be small, but big.
Tall but short.
Happy but sad.
Alone but crowded.
Indifferent.
Is it okay?
I want an answer.
Please.
Please..
Tell me.
Is it okay to wake up each morning and not want to move, to face another day of brutal torture. For the things you didn't do, for the things that life wrapped around you in a blanket so tight, so evil, that you feel like it's suffocating you.
Is it okay to just lay still, silent, lifeless, and wonder about everything you've ever wanted, and everything you'll never have.
Is it okay.
Is it okay to be silent, to yield.
Can I yield?
Is it okay if I want to heal, to hide the scars and smile, to cover up the bad and be good?
Can I be someone I'm not, if it'll just put a smile on a friends face?
Can I be that person whose happy, who can smile, who doesn't have to worry about the cancer, or the scars, or the rape, or the indifference.
The bad.
Can I be good?