im still okay


im still a pink hibiscus smiling on a branch in its last days
im still the eunoia in the pain
im still the wounded melancholy which rips apart the doors , windows , buildings and even cities
im still a lilac sky fading at 6:30pm but staying in bright screens
im still a believer of meliorism
im still in a rush to heal the forgotten mistakes
im still a thick book with blank pages but i smell of a pansy garden
im still the most alive in every stranger's heart as a stranger
im still a heart that bleeds poetry into the cracks of other hearts
im still not a potrait of love but one of anxiety
im still quite happy deep inside them
im still ignorant of what causes fire in my lotus eyes when i smile
im still walkin , searching things that come out along with tears
im still the one who writes truths instead of secrets
im still a sorry trying to defeat the nos'.
im still myself when im spilling paint into dreams to make it better
im still like before
im still okay.

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