It took 500 poems to make me feel okay again. Every morning greeted me as my bones rattled in fear. That was blood turning inside out from all the damage. That was being and seeing, but not accepting. That was knowing when to finally say, “this is enough, I surrender to it.” I became one with the things that won over my thoughts in crippling dares that sounded like lullabies. Put me to sleep and wake up poisoned. Asking the world if I’m using too much air. Pleading with myself because I swore I could fix it if I tried. I promised I was okay. I built a bridge out of my expectations and watch everything walk over me like a sad goodbye. Life begging me to come back home as I wandered through that place. Let my words be the oxygen that inflated weak lungs. Pulsed through my veins as it all came rushing back to my mind. Emptied sadness in scribbles that tore through a blank page without any regret. I hold my words like a rosary because they hang from me like something holy. Let myself get better. Get better. Get better. Getting better. It took 500 poems to make me feel okay again. -AMT