In the quiet spaces where my heart resides,
I craft a tale of endurance,  where emotion hides.
A facade of fine, a smile painted on,
Hiding the storms, where shadows are drawn.

Through the echoes of laughter, a silence persists, Enduring the ache, with clenched-fist twists.
I say I'm fine, a whispered refrain,
Yet in the depths, a tempest remains.

In the theater of tears, I play my part,
A master of pretending, a work of art.
The world sees strength, a resilient sheen,
But beneath the surface, a different scene.

I endure the weight, the burdens I bear,
A stoic facade, a delicate affair.
Yet, in this masquerade, emotions entwine,
For sometimes, saying "I'm fine" is a valiant design.

So let the verses of endurance unfold,
In the silent poetry of stories untold.
I wear a mask, a masterpiece divine,
Enduring, pretending, yet somehow,
I'm fine.

It
doesn't
matter who
reaches the top
of the mountain first
because eventually we
will all be buried beneath it.
We're just racing towards death.
If you're always trying to reach the top,
you never really get there. There will always
be another peak to climb, and you can't stay above
tree line forever. Also, the hail storm in the valley won't
last forever. So you hunker down and ride it out. Finally, if the
journey is the destination, you'll always be on top of the mountain.

And just like that,
I lost my poetry again.
But my nighttime friend was there.
The moon who holds my desires and fear.
The one who keeps all my tangled thoughts.
Reminding me of the wishes I’ve daily written in the night sky.
All my stories of pain and love,
my sunken dreams and storms.
Yet I told the moon of what I know,
that my loss does not have
to be an end.