malalai khan

we've all got stories to tell, they say / i tell them mine and they wave it away / how are you, they consistently ask / i tell them i am not okay / and they roll their eyes underneath the mask / we throw our little pages / into tiny bottles of glass / that shatter from trembling hands / tears soaking the ink on paper / bearing weight of our minds / with the burning urge to resurface / from this well of words / for our tired hearts / long to be heard.