That Old Question Poem by Debora Soramaki

Hello, How are you?
I'm fine, I guess,
But the trash is sky high
And my room is a mess.
Why the big change
When you were Mister Clean?
I don't know, but let's whisper
And not make a scene.
I suppose it's depression,
I'm not on my meds,
It's like the recession
Playing games in our heads.
So you say that you're fine.
I suppose things get better
Once you're standing in line
Or you write them a letter.
Are you sure all is fine?
Oh yes, I'll get by,
I've got food in the fridge,
Home made pickles, apple pie.
How's the gas in your car?
Well, you got me on that one.
I'm not going too far
But I guess I could run.
(That's it, now I'm done)