The blind moon shines on, regardless,
Silvering happy houses full
of sleeping families.
Mother. Father. Son. Daughter.
Sound and strong and whole,
the way that tales insist:
They lived happily ever after.
By day I go out among them.
When I walk among them beneath the sun,
Bright and light and smiling -
Bared teeth to hide my pain -
they see me as no different to themselves.
"Hello! How are you!"
"Fine," I say smiling. "And you?"
"Fine, thank you. Just fine..."