How you doing?

He was different.

Maybe he preferred isolation.

Maybe he chose not to speak up.

Maybe he never tried to make friends.

Sitting on the bench, silent

While the other kids were playing.

The corner seat of classroom,

Maybe he liked that seat.

He chose not to fit in,

He chose not to gel up.

Maybe it was his destiny,

To be lost in despair.

Maybe it’s all his fault.

Or we were responsible as well?

Maybe we did this to him.

Or we never cared enough 

To ask , “how you doing?”


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