You look at me,
head bent, shoulders down
face contorted by a frown,
tears barely held at bay,
yet you still ask, "Are you okay?"

As my head turns towards you
and a facade of a smile
returns once more
to hide my pain
I think of a million things to say.

I could tell you of my sorrows,
my many weighing burdens.
I could relate all my anger and hate,
not of others but rather of myself.
I could pin you down under the mound
of torturous experiences I live through daily.

Instead, I lie.
With practiced, fake motions
I look you in the eye
and begrudgingly utter
two words that disarm
your insincere concern.

"I'm fine."