He says

that I'm ok,

beautiful even,

what a foreign concept.

 

He says

that I'm ok,

lovable even,

what a foreign concept.

 

He says

the bad stuff's ok:

the shame,

the guilt,

the anger,

the tears

are all ok

and I'm ok

what a truly foreign concept.

 

He says

the good stuff's ok:

the pride,

the strength,

the confidence,

the love

are all ok

and I'm ok

what a crazy foreign concept.

 

But crazier still - they aren't empty words

he doesn't just say them but shows them too.

 

What I think is ok.

What I say is ok.

What I do is ok.

What I am is ok.

 

What a messed up, fucked up, crazy ass foreign concept;

 

but a fine one.