In many ways this is all too true.
Have you noticed the verses so blue.
Haunted by the poetry I can write.
Express my self in a better light.
My last failing armor is this.
My poetic talent that I miss.
I hide behind the talent in fear.
Hope for understanding from someone dear.
What I fear is I will be open again.
That is where I need a dear friend.
When I see things in my dreams,
My past returns or so it seems.
Every time I have been in love.
I'm pushed aside with a shove.
Men normally can handle it.
But I can not, that I'll admit.
Hopes and dreams I can share.
But with the few that do care.
Helpless I feel in this mess.
It is how life is, I guess.
Can strangers pass and not see me.?
Can they allow my spirit to roam free?
Can someone close allow the same thing?
Or am I just another male ding-a-ling?
Or I could write with teary eye,
Am I coldhearted? NO I Cry.
My armor is made so thin.
That is the shape I am in.
I had this talent for years.
My words can cause tears.
Tears of laughter and of joy.
Tears of sadness from a small boy.
My talent can brings a smile.
I HID it for a long long while.
Ashamed that I could do this thing.
To Write my life as if to sing.
To ramble on and make such sense.
Causes others to feel too tense.
Some think that it is a game I play.
I can only express myself this way.
Bring a hammer and leave it at the door.
Don't ever ask what the hammer is for.
The hammer will be used by me.
For what you ask? Wait and see.
Is this a gift that God helped me hide.
Or is it the devil haunting my inside?
Can love and life be such a mess?
To me that is anybody's guess.
In life is there something to cherish?
An everlasting love that can't perish?
If there is, it is hidden much to well.
So I remain in my poetic shell.
I need the hammer, the heart of stone.
The sword of bravery when I feel alone.
Ease my pain and support my soul.
Touch my heart and make me whole.
