i try hard at life, but i find it confusing
i do do my best to face it all with a grin,
i’ve twisted and turned, and i’ve taken a bruising,
i try to fight back, but i can’t seem to win.

i spend too much time feeling down, feeling dismal
i bottle it up and i know that it’s wrong,
but there’s something inside and it’s growing, abysmal
and i’m sometimes afraid that it’s growing too strong.

i hide it behind smiling masks, being cheerful,
my life is a dream, an accoutrement of joy
and all that you see is the charm, not the fearful:
a happy, and smiling, and convivial boy!

now don’t get me wrong, we all have our problems,
i shouldn’t think that mine are any worse than yours,
it’s just that i hide mine, i’m protective of them,
i bury them deep, all those festering sores.

xxx.