Small Talk

A poem about small talk

You ask me how I am, I say, "I am alive."
But that is such a lie, I am really dying.
You ask if I'm okay, When it's obvious I'm crying.
I say, "I'm so fine." But that's just my line.
Don't pretend like you care because I won't either.
I'd prefer to sit and stare,
save words for when they're needed.
But you won't let it be that easy.
Small talk for small people.
Never needed that idea.
I say I need to get away and you call me a lifer.
And if you're right- it's more like a life sentence.
I've got the karma of a dead man walking.
Thank god this isn't Texas- America's bad enough.
So how's it going? It's going way too quickly.
And I'm feeling a kinda unique fragile fatigue.
What a relief it would be to faint.
This strength is a weakness,
and how was your day?