How Are You?

How are you my dear?

They always ask, don’t they?

Day after day the strangers inquire,

Though not a single one aspires

To actually shun

Your painful shingles.


Don’t I sit here and watch?

Don’t I sit by and cry?

It seems by and by that my tears tend to flow

Just for a sick twisted show

To fund your gifted,

Scam-filled schtick.


Love, can you not yell?

Can you not drive your fright to the wall?

Don’t allow your former shells

To dig a mud and blood filled well

That they deem fit to guild

With your winning guts.


My dear, I will not ask again.

I know you’re hurt under plastic smiles,

So I promise I’ll smile, nod, and wave like always.

I’ll do so until my smiles and I part ways

And I return to the start

With tears in my eyes


And my shattered heart in a shopping bag.


This poem is about: 
My community


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