For despite all that we feel
Even in our blackest of moments
We are not alone…and yet
It is always that most difficult of things
To say – help me, help me please.
And were a man to even note
How hurt he really felt
He’d wrap himself within himself
And cry right where he knelt.
For man is such a foolish thing
His pride forever in his wake
As sees he help as weakness
And only given for pity’s sake.
Such tender words are offered
But cold his foolish soul
Instead of reaching to that touch
He resolutely keeps control.
Until the wreck falls down in tears
And weeps his life of pain
Yet someone always helps him up
As once more she is there again.
And finally he’ll realise
Indeed, we’re not alone
His grief is shared by many souls
it’s not just his to own.
©Joe Wilson – His pride…2016