The Art of Smiling

We Lie

"What's wrong?" It's the million dollar question that leaves all Pinocchio without his nose. We lie and lie but it doesn't show. "Are you okay?" It's an inquiry that manages to push us deeper into the darkness as we hide ourselves all too well with the ghosts of smiles that we can't keep. "How are you?"-"Oh, fine!" We lis with those ghost smiles that we have managed to perfect. We hold back tears and swallow screams that have sat in us like rotting apples on the ground. We call ourselves a waste of space, a disgrace to anyone who's had the misfortune of speaking our names. Lost causes, broken toys. We die and nothing changes. Silence. Everything we want to say, to scream, only somes out as silence. An awkward growing silence that we scramble to feel so that no one grows suspicious of our long sleeves and excessive bracelets. "I'm great!" Lie. "I've been fine." Lie. "I'm okay." Lie. We want to beg and scream and cry for help but we can't. So we put on that mask and convince everyone else we're happy, maybe we can cinvince ourselves too. We sit and stare at punched out windows, empty bottles, and scarred skin. We swear and swear that it won't happen again. We all lie, I'm just beibg honest.