I Will Be Okay

Today

I had a breakdown.

I saw nothing but black,

and was, after, told that I had destroyed the

living room.

But I am okay, my mother says,

and that's all that matters.

Today

I had a breakdown.

I started to cry in silence,

and nobody noticed until I put my foot

through the glass table and

tore my foot into ribbons.

But I am okay, my dad says,

and that's all that matters.

Today

I had a breakdown.

My foot gushing red while I saw nothing but black,

I fell to the floor,

and curled into a ball,

shaking, not knowing where I was,

like a leaf blown into freezing water.

But I am okay, my mother says.

But I am okay, my dad says.

That's all that matters they say.

I tell my best friend.

And she knows I'm not okay.

Because I am not okay.

But she knows I will be okay,

and that's all that matters.