Hypocrite

She walked in all charm, all smiles, such a lovely girl

Bright happy eyes, a whole mood, even did a twirl

Such a hypocrite!

I saw her but a few moments ago bereft and broken as she hummed a tune of lament.

Underneath that cheerful countenance is a heart cloaked in a pain streaked, tear-soaked, grief stained garment

Perhaps, I shouldn’t be so mean. She’s only being strong the way she knows how to.

But my heart is clothed in the same garment, only mine is more stylish, customized with the words “I’m not fine” in blood ink.

I wear my heart out on my sleeve, that makes me brave, that makes me true — I’d like
to think.

Yet I’m the real hypocrite, for when she asked me, “what’s wrong?”

I smiled and said, “Nothing, I’m fine “.