When I was younger people used to ask,
"How are you?"
I used to get annoyed and hid under a mask.
Now no one asks if I'm feeling blue.
Now the mask has a hole,
Green gas is seeping in,
The lies are now taking a toll,
Somebody, please, ask me how I've been.
YOU ARE READING
Flying Whales
PoetryTwenty six letters repeated again and again to create a change in one's self. Poetry at its finest. Highest in poetry: #63 8/7/17
