WEAK STRENGTH

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The ego is flattered and thrilled to the core
When people say that I am oh –so- strong
And have a broad and generous shoulder
For the weak ones to cry upon.

If only they knew about my heart’s troubled sinews,
And the gashes I endure under my sashes,
If only they knew I feel as much as the others,
That my cold emotionless eyes and firm -appearing jaws
Are but fronts put on by a puffed up ego
To retain the image of the Herculean man.

Where will I turn for solace then,
Whose shoulder shall I weep upon,
When even though a shoulder be thus lent,
My ego will disallow to give vent.



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