Poem: They say.



They say
You can’t speak boldly about pain,
When you eat three square meals
Each day.

There are apparent gradients
To internal decay:
Senior suffering
And junior heartache.

Do you dab at your tears
In a dainty way,
Or let them fall untethered
Like bombs from a plane?

Let no one mislead you:
No life is without troubles.

Some wear theirs prominently
On their sleeves,
And others bury theirs
Under the guise
Of fake smiles.

Written by
Ivie M. Eke 2019

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