It’s alright to not be okay, yet
I become an actor when asked how I fare.
My lips move, but my heart’s truth I forget.
The words “I’m fine” escape, though I’m dying to share.
My speech is stuttered, my throat aches with pain.
My eyes feel heavy with words I cannot speak.
Daily, I become a stranger to myself, in vain.
“I’m OK” is my mantra, my favourite lie to seek.
I suffocate on deception, a passive-aggressive fate.
Emotional torture, my psychological structure in disarray.
Like makeup, I need a touch-up, a repair to my soul.
I died once, twice, and you didn’t ask; my third demise, I’ll face alone.
Hit Achilles on his heels and ask if he’s okay.
Who is, really?
Even in the UK, all is not Ok.
“I am OK” is a confused personification,
A daily medication as walking corpses embellished with the usual dentition.
It’s okay not to be okay,
It’s okay to break down and cry.
Yet, feeling down is criminalised, I ask myself why, oh why!
I’m a pro at hiding feelings, wearing a dead smile,
Painting a facade, a pathetic, a living lie.
I just have to be okay
Since that’s all you all want me to be.
Yes, with a smile!
Yes, with a smile!
– A collaborative masterpiece by Naija Poetry Fest Community members.