(This is a poem about a time in my life, where I needed to talk to someone but no-one was there, I just needed someone to understand.)
Having the greatest of times,
But when I'm alone, I feel so down,
I always end up thinking of these friends of mine,
Trying to express myself, I feel like a clown.
Moving so often,
And making friends each time is hard,
I have learnt not to soften,
Because if I do, I manage yet again to break my heart.
Sometimes I cry myself to sleep,
Thinking what to do with these problems of mine,
I act all cheerful, but deep inside I weep,
I have been told many a time: 'To sort problems often takes time'.
People try to change me,
Into something that I'm not,
Although I am not what they see,
Inside, I'm someone that they know, not.
Most people would say I'm honest and caring,
Yes I may be honest but the question is in what way,
If they mean the way I feel,
They dont know the feelings I put away.
Even my bestie, my bro,
Doesnt understand,
Doesnt even know,
Where my problems and life stand.
The only one who does understand,
Isnt physicallt here,
But places these obstacles in my life, but knows where I stand,
But does God hear,
My cry's for help?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think God has a hearing problem......or I'm asking the wrong questions. Alas, he doesn't respond. Take care Tanya...laters.