And they ask me,

"Hello, how are you?"

"Fine, thank you. And you?"

The automatic reply out of my lips
Falling out in my stead of teardrops

"Fine, thank you. And you?"

I'm fine. Not great. Not good.
Just..

Thank you.
For your politeness. For the bother enough to ask. For the question, even if you couldn't care less.

And you?
Deflection. Before you can see me. Before I can honestly answer the question. Before I can say,

"I'm not fine. I haven't been fine for so long. Yet I deceive myself into thinking I'm content. And it's been so long that someone actually wanted to know if I'm fine or not, I've forgotten how to express myself. How to open up. How to describe how I feel - it's too hard to describe how I feel, so I just say,

Fine, thank you. And you?"

When the voice of a seventeen year old girl holds more wisdom, sanity and truth than those who lead us.
When our leaders trade a prophet for a profit.
When there is easy money to be made from recovery rather than investment in change for the longer term.
When billionaires with vested interests set the policy.
Devastation and disaster, death and starvation have no political bias.
When will you add your voice and when will it be too late for you?
When eyes and ears give rise to voices that call out in fear for our very world will your apathy hold true?
Close your eyes.
Close your ears.
But even so your house will not be immune.

I have repressed my emotions for so long
That I have lost the ability to cry...

I'm feeling a confusion
Or maybe it's just delusion,
Does she still like me?
I'm probably as annoying as a bee.
I feel like I'm a burden,
Hiding all my feelings behind a curtain
Of doubt, uncertainty and hesitation,
It feels nothing short of damnation.

I don't even know why I'm trying to rhyme
All of these thoughts and I'm running out of time
It's time to halt this cursed rhyme
And talk with you from my heart

I'm feeling so hollow and wishing there was no tomorrow, all I feel is apathy and it's pure agony, I can't even write any more because all my feelings are gone, what is a sea without water? What is spring without a flower? What is summer without its schoring sun?
What is a writer without his ink?
What is a poet without feelings?

You've chosen ashes over gold
Traded your heart for cheap thrills
You grew careless in your love
And drank the poison of indifference

Now you swim in the sea of deception
Because apathy long ago became your vice
She's going to pull you under
And I'm forced to watch you die

I can't save you

In all honesty
I have no idea
What to write about