You Look Fine
“You look fine,” you say. You leave and I smile. I do look fine. But not in the way you think. Not in the way you choose to paint me.
“You look fine,” you say. You leave and I smile. I do look fine. But not in the way you think. Not in the way you choose to paint me.
You will wear a life vest, spending the rest of your days trying to stay afloat. You will be stronger than the waves. You will not drown.