The Question You Don't Wanna Hear Poem by Clarisse Austria

This is odd,
When someone asks,
'How are you doing? '
I cry.

I cry a lot,
Tears I can't stop.
Perhaps it reminds me
That I'm at rock bottom.

A simple question that hits me
Like a storm against fragile glass,
Exposing the cracks from pressure,
As tears escape like a muddy flood.

With that one generous question,
It reveals the loneliness I tried to hide,
Thrusting an old wound,
In the same spot that never healed.

'How are you doing? '
Why does it break my heart?
Perhaps there's no need to say I'm fine,
Because right now, I'm breaking down.

At least, someone is kind enough
To ask.