My sour patch

                   I crawl into tighter spots so no one can
see me cry. No hurt can be displayed. The tears can
fall without consequences. The sniffles can be heard.

                  Only silence knows my despair.

                  To many, I will smile. I will greet. I will
laugh. I will struggle to press on. Only I inquire, in
a whisper, why does the hurt still echo deep within?

                  Still, there I am, standing tall. Only
one sees, one hears. A kind laughter that draws to
a close, the stinging.

                  Ah and many think I am "fine".

                  If they only knew the strength I press
forward. The depths of swallowing I send down. Ah
if they could just hear my cries, what would the do?

                 Alas it is not a question I place in the wind.

                 Just pushing my reddened face into the
breeze. Hoping, desiring the halting, choking breaths
not to follow through.

                  So sad it is, me.

                   Yet I will not say one word. I will find my
strength in the Scriptures. I will bounce back, as I
always do, going along the path to find my peace.

                  So then no sighs, no wondering of my pains.

                  I will only hope my hollowed experiences
find the rooted patience. Once more sending my
spirit to soar. So high beyond the sickening sweetness
of one day of sour patches.