Honest Work
The routine fuels the lonesome
making it harder to change
this day;
again the same
trudges replace my steps
as a consequence of greying eyes
corners piercing sharp
white stone in between
I carry this smile
to hide the mystery
when joy is hidden
it must be pretended to be found
the work arduous
continuously prevailing mundane
giving out comfort amidst the rain
as honest as I try
as many hours as it takes
it still leaves me lonesome
to live another day
trying not only to fix mine
but our heartache.
This poem is about:
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world