The Question

"How are you?"

And there are no right answers,

Only left out truths.

"How are you doing?"

So much pain,

Feels like dying.

But that is not,

what you asked.

"How are you?"

Rhetoric; stipulation,

Compelling perjury.

"I am...

Fine"

Kevin M. Shear

12-16-10

Submitted to Jingle Poetry for Poetry Potluck.

Envy

I envy you,

With disease that ends in cure or demise,

With a blind eye for the sweetness of pain.

Forever will the sun burn the flesh of limb,

Eternity never seemed so dark.