Desert Inside

Face disciplined to show outwardly

none of the the cracks and fissures

of a hearts long drought.

I water with feigned laughter

the brittle, dry deseret inside.

Able to function one more day.

Calm, sanity smiles, accepting

the facade that society sees.

Unsuspecting, never guessing.

Beneath turbid water is never clear

It only mirrors the sun it cannot absorb.

Cool gray waters able to reflect branches

twisted and tangled, in ways

that avoid reaching out to draw in

those who might bring me to life.

Few have tread this splintered path

past mirage to reality, and stayed.

Those few golden souls, are leathered.

Weathered, by deserts of thier own.

© 2012 Tamera Dobbins   l