Crashing

The worst part of crashing
Is no one asking,
“What’s the matter?”,
When life is all but shatters.

Friends fail to understand
That rewording the script is contraband
But when I say, “I’m doing fine!”,
I mean I’m anything but.

I want you to know
That I’m at an all-time low
But you don’t ask and I don’t tell
The reason why I’m never well.

Now, I’m saying out loud
That for once I am proud
I am not standing on my own
By myself, all alone.

With God, I stand
With the help of his hand
He’s piecing together my life
One strand at a time.