I keep waking up, keep screaming my lungs out.

I can’t sleep. I can’t eat.

I feel sick. And numb. Sick and numb.

I’ve got to fix myself. Everyone at work keeps asking if I’m okay.

I’m alright. I’m alright.

I run to the washroom and throw up.

I’m not alright.

I try to stop thinking about the road.

But the therapist keeps telling me to remember it.

I ran away from her office

Leaving the sickly sweet smell of honey.

I walk all the way home,

Fell once, fell twice.

An old man asked if I was alright. I’m alright.

Cars dance around in my vision and I breathe out hard.

I’m not alright.

I stumble into my kitchen.

My legs don’t want to move.

A little girl runs towards me, and I spread my arms.

She passes through.

I collapse on the floor.

She’s gone.

And I’m not alright.