living with pain

the story of today.

headline in-fact

as we pretend to be whole

and pretend to be intact.

he looks on

and they look on him.

his life appears gold

his life is grim.

a painter?

he was unaware.

portraits so pure,

he tries to paint in black,

but color always finds his stare.

the story he sells

they come far and wide,

they buy it.

He’s trying,

no

he’s reconciling.

onward he goes,

the ‘thumbs up’ continue to flow,

the likes, they never go.

is it real? he never knows.

perfection is what they expect,

but no one challenges his quo.

the fainted hearted,

they will never know.

of the hundreds of thousands,

only one could equate.

to see him as he is

to approach the boy,

with a slate that is blank.

she’s a painter too

except she owns her pallet.

her paint, once black too

faded into the sky,

and like the sky,

turned into blue.

with just one question,

really, how are you?