You bury your head in your palm
with tears welled up in your eyes,
refusing to trickle down your bony cheeks,
when they finally do,
they’re accompanied by silent sobs
you’ve been strong for too long,
optimistic for what seems like forever
You count all the times you’ve acted strong
while in fact, You were crushing inside
wearing smiles to mask your pain from the outer world
Maybe being good doesn’t pay
as You were made to believe
maybe doing good doesn’t mean
you’d reap the goodness of life
you’ve done it all right from the onset
in hope of reaping all the goodness good deeds bring
but the troubles won’t cease
and your blessings are rather disguised curses
You can’t do this anymore
You pour it all out – fresh tears of pain
accompanied by loud sobs,
suddenly You lift your head up
wipe your face with the back of your palm
You conceal your pain with a faint smile
You wear your happy-face facade
you’re going to step out head high, dressed up, cheered up
with only hope in your heart,
but your spirit crushed
Ruth Gladstone 