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?