Hidden World

"I'm fine," I say when asked how I'm doing,

"I'm good," I tell you when something's wrong,

on the outside I may appear happy and joyful,

but you've never seen my hidden world.


The real world is beautifully vast and awesome,

but also so painful and miserable,

and so while I'm appearing to enjoy the scenery,

I'm really deep down thinking how it's all moot.


The struggles and trials I'm facing inside

never come to the surface when I simply lie

and tell you I'm fine and that everything's great

when I'm falling apart and drowning in my own lake. 


This hidden world is mine and mine alone

and I cherish the time I spend there on my own,

even though it may hurt and I can hardly bear

the weight of the pain that leaves me in despair.


Somedays I wonder if I'll ever recover,

if life will get better or if this is it.

Then someone comes along and asks if I'm okay,

I tell them I'm fine and they answer, "Really?

"You don't look too great. Do you need anything?"

And after hesitation, I respond with, "Maybe,

life's been pretty rough. I'm not sure what to do."

With a kind look and smile, they say, "Let me help you."


Slowly I open my small hidden world, 

and population 1 becomes population 2

because someone else knows what I've been going through

and they're willing to help me work through the torture,


The pain and the sorrow I'm feeling inside,

and I start to get better, see the world through new eyes.

I thank them for helping and then move along,

but know that they're there if I ever need someone.


When you open yourself up to get help for the hurt,

you can overcome easier than by yourself.

People are made to walk through life together,

so my dark hidden world need not stay hidden forever.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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