This undercurrent of vague niceties
That aren’t so vague
Those platitudes of the ilk of “we’re fine”
“Everything is ok”
Scream-whisper of hidden, heavy meaning
While their glassy eyed smiles, though wide
Split at the sides
And you know “things” are anything but ok
Yet evermore, the court of common courtesy holds sway
We continue, on and on
Bursting at the seams of polite society
With each passing day
Reblogged this on The Scarlett letters.
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