Poem memoirs

Inside, a scream echoes against these walls,

but the surface stays still, a straight face for all.

The water is rising, a dam about to break,

yet no one sees the ripples or the quake.

​I am the helper, the steady, the strong,

the one who has carried the world for too long.

I’ll anchor your soul while mine drifts away,

lost in a fog where the colors turn gray.

​I long for an arm, a sturdy embrace,

to settle the storm behind this blank face.

I wait in the wreckage, longing to be seen,

but I’m helping the world while I’m drowning Beneath.