Be Okay.

Be okay.

No, I refuse! I tire of being okay. I want to be a fury or a muse!  Oh please, I beg of you,

Let me be crude, disheveled, and nude.

But what’s wrong with being okay? You experience no extreme commotion, just the flat color of gray.

This color gray, has density and depth! It weighs heavy on my heart, gnarling my soul.

Because, you see, while being okay and unnerved causes no external trouble,

I’m seeing my life flash back and forth through states of vegetation. I want to

feel real,

feel life,

feel rain,

I want to be able to twist the corners of my mouth in pleasure or pain.

This straight line of being okay

It’s setting sail far away 


I was never alright

nor Okay.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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