What drives me on through every day?
An exact reason, it’s hard to say,
I have my children, love so true,
Should I need more, should that not do?

But I have a fire that burns so deep,
Fuelled by tears I cannot weep,
My darkest thoughts I keep inside,
Where pain exists and cannot hide.

This burning flame its pain grows worse,
And this is when I write my verse,
Shy, secret, insecure,
You doubt that’s me, but me, I’m sure.

Confident, cocky, arrogant, fool,
A man who always keeps his cool,
A clown who laughs when life it frowns,
Alas a front, inside hope drowns.

A secret soul, with few I share,
Gratitude eternally, for the few that care,
I listen daily to other’s strife,
But few are there to guide my life.

A helping hand, a listening ear,
But few are there for me I fear,
My secrets hid behind secret walls,
For when I share, my world it falls.

Each time I build them even higher,
But of this task, inside I tire,
I’m always one on who you depend,
I’m always there a loyal friend.

But now I need this help for me,
I need the world to stop and see,
I can’t be the one that’s always strong,
As hard as it seems, my world’s gone wrong.

I rarely moan, hardly complain,
But where’s my help to heal my pain?
How do I stop things getting worse?
Simple, I put them in my verse.

An honest poem, with simple truth,
To ease my pain, I think of youth,
The smiles upon my children's faces,
With this thought, my pain erases.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation