So, “How are you feeling?” I hear you say.
Fine, thanks.” I reply.
But really mean:
Awful, I’m hungry and cold
I’m alone, lonely,
No-one sees me.
You’re not asking if I’m OK really.

And I pause and say:
So how are you?
And you say, “Great!
But really mean:
I wish I could talk to you
About how you really feel
But I don’t want to pry
Into your
And we part after that fleeting moment,
Neither fulfilled.
Neither feeling fine.
You walk alone with your thoughts,
And I with mine.
Thinking the same:
Am I fine? Are you?
But we just walk on
Continuing to be –

black and white image of a man sitting on the gound

Poetry, Words ,

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