Short Poem #2

The stars still come, the moon still glows, But peace is something I don’t know. Each thought becomes a weight, a chain, A soft, familiar kind of pain. I lie awake and watch the night, And hope the dark will treat me right. For morning brings the mask I wear, The empty laughs, the vacant stare. Yet in the hush, the quiet deep, I find the space to finally weep. And though no one will ever see — The tears still mean the world to me.