You never really know how strong you are until you're alone,
crying and forced to pick yourself up off the floor.
That is when you can truly see how big your emotional muscles are
and I promise
they are bigger than you ever thought possible.

Silent is this night
Though storms rage within me
Still is the air
Though my heart beats wildly
Fickle are my feelings
As my mind works frantically
Battered is my soul
As I face new deadlock
Constant are the words
Of great authors
To whom I turn
In my hour of need

'Tis a dry kind of land
Said the cactus to the sand
In the light of noon his prickles were a’glistening
But no answer returned
And the cactus duly learned
That the sand was only any good for listening

The priest puts his trust
In martyrs and miracles
Clutching his rosary and his celibacy
To his bursting breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day

The ***** puts her trust
In bordellos and bodies
Clutching her money and her condoms
To her brassy breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day

The lawyer puts his trust
In regulations and rules
Clutching his charters and his decrees
To his dusty breast
And humanity walks
Through a series of cages
Every day

We each put our trust
In roles and rituals
Clutching convention and convenience
To our timid *******
So humanity continues to walk
Through a series of self-made cages
Every day

                 By Phil Roberts