The Feeling.

The Feeling.

How long can someone be expected to hide,
That horrendous feeling that grows and then festers inside?
You wonder when it started and how on Earth you got here?
Hoping that maybe if you could pinpoint, you’d have less to fear…

You’ve tried to ignore it – push it away,
Yet every one of your efforts is futile; it’s with you to stay.
When you look, it seems like everyone around is living without a care,
While you’re living with that feeling you’re somehow drowning in air?

Friends ask how you are, and you tell them ‘I’m fine’,
When the truth is since you woke up, all you’ve been thinking about is wine.
Not to get drunk, ‘cause that’s not your style,
But something, anything to burn away that ache – just for a while.

You smile for your kids and try not to show it,
Then you see them look into your eyes and you know they know it.
Time to find your foundation and paste on ‘fun mum!’
Attempt to mask that feeling that never sets with the sun.

Your mum, bless her, never stops telling you you’re strong
But she knows more than most you’ve been strong for so long, too long?
And so how do you tell her her comfort just makes it worse?
You don’t. You keep quiet to stop the feeling spreading like a curse.

Overwhelmed. Sad. Tired. Those words don’t seem to cut it.
It’s more like this feeling has filled you while emptying – thoroughly gutted.
Void of happiness. Anxious. Fearful and downright depressed.
Yes, although not exactly, those words describe it best.

So you wait… You hope… You eat, sleep and pray.
Maybe you’ll feel better, maybe today?
It’s ironic that you’re still able to dream when you barely sleep,
The alternative is no longer possible. With no tears, how does one weep?