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I Am Not Okay

How many ways can you say you’re not okay

For people to finally start to listen?

I’ve said it with words but maybe they’re waiting

For lines across my skin

Or black and blue to show on more than just my legs

Maybe they’re waiting for a note on the dresser, on the bed

On the door, on the floor, dripping on the walls

Maybe they’re waiting for a mothers’ tears

A sisters’ cries or a few hearts breaking

Maybe they’re waiting to see my cries for help

On the television screen, maybe even in newspapers

I don’t know how else to say “I am not okay”

Without another headstone appearing

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