- All These Years -

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
All These Years.

Submitted: March 13, 2013

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Submitted: March 13, 2013



All These Years:

I know that I should not complain

About the difficulties of life,

When there are so many in the World

Much less fortunate than I.

I have my health, a roof and food,

And outwardly appear alright.

But deep inside I boil and writhe.

My brain is cluttered,

My soul is tired.

And every time I force a smile

You can see behind my eyes

The emptiness I try to hide.


But you will never see me cry,

Nor see inside my troubled mind.

Nor bear witness to the anxious tide

That did capsize

The good ship Hope

So long ago...

Nor shall you ever come to know

That courage lives in a house of straw

And a wolf called despair howls at the door.

Nor see my heart, a blackened mess,

Burnt on the flame of loneliness.

And you will never realise that

I’ve papered over so many cracks

That paper now keeps me intact;

Take it away and I would collapse.


The fact that I got here at all

Is not far off a miracle.

The fact that no-one seems to know

Is testament to how I’ve coped.


No you will never understand

How pain consumes this humble man.

How, when no-one is around,

He holds his head in his hands

And asks himself the questionWHY?

And wonders should he live or die?

And when he goes to bed at night

He knows it will not be alright…..


Because for all these nights,

For all these years,

He’s kept awake by dreadful fears;


Of what has gone,

Of what will be.

Oh God, what has become of me?

© Copyright 2018 Stephen Fieldsend. All rights reserved.