Poetry
without
heart
is
just
.            
.
.
.
some
words
on
a
page.

Maybe,
        
           I could be an athlete
           I'd win the marathon with
           Running away
                     - from all of my problems.

Smile.
“I’m fine.”
Smile.
“Just tired.”
Smile.
“oh, sorry, I’ve been busy.”
Smile.
Smile.
Smile.

It’s funny,
isn’t it?
How hard it is to tell the difference
between a smile

and a grimace.

It’s funny,
isn’t it?
How people are so willing
to swallow a lie,
If it’s what they want to hear,

And you’re baring your teeth.