• How was your day?
    The question I dread
    The question I try to smoothly answer;
    In my head.
    How was my day?
    The words are on my tongue.
    Yet, I'll simply answer,
    My day was fun.

    How are you?
    The question I hate
    The question that sits like the bad food;
    On your plate.
    How was my day?
    I want to tell you, I want to desperatly say,
    Yet, I'll simply answer,
    I am great.

    What have you been up to?
    The question so mean,
    The question I try to figure out the answer,
    An answer so clean.
    What have I been up to?
    Should I talk about my havoc day?
    Yet, I'll simply answer,
    Well, there's not much to say.

    Oh how I wait that one day,
    When someone gets the gut to say,
    When after I've given my fake answer,
    They'll look real hard, in my eyes, and say;
    Come on, tell me really,
    Without lies.

    How was my day?
    It was horrible If I can say.
    Bruises all up and down my arms,
    My eyes lighting up like alarms,
    Children screaming, hitting, hating me
    Why can't I be set free?

    How am I?
    Is that what you said?
    Well, I'll tell you; I'd rather be dead.
    Memories, haunting, nightmares if you will
    My mother screaming, threatning to kill.
    Hands around my throat, coughing from the choke;
    Just end it now, please, I don't care how.

    What have I been up to?
    The events make me ashamed.
    I blame myself, for all other's mistakes
    Cold steel against my skin, crying;
    Blood running down my arm; seduced by lieing.
    Please, don't ask me again.
    I don't want to talk about all of my sins.

    Yet; no one asks.
    No one notices.
    So I continue to lie,
    Until the day I die.
    Even if it hurts, I'll hold it in.
    Even if your questions do make me cringe.