My inner turmoil is almost limitless
yet your patience seems to be infinite.
Some days I feel like I'm drowning
but I don't own it in pride or proudly.
My face goes beyond wrinkled lines
as if a frown could be a simple sign.
I have a hundred different smiles
and while some point to the sky
only three or four are truly happy
because I'm a dog without an owner
facing thousand others who won't own up,
so even without an owner
I'm somehow still feeling like a lackey.
So can you please find it in you
to come back and remind me
that when I need you, you'll be there.
My soul is bruised by inner turmoil,
so please go grab a shovel from the shed
and when I need it, please help bury me
in the sands, in the dirt and soul;
to relinquish the inner turmoil.