I'm hungry, sir

 It's 9:30am and you are late son

What is your excuse this time?

Wipe that smirk from your face

Go and stand there, at the back of the line.

He's always late him and he never listens

I'll ask him a question; he mumbles replies

I've never known a boy who daydreams so much

And in the afternoon, he is quite and mostly cries

Didn't he used to be a happy little boy

With a laugh that was quite contagious

I can't seem to get to the bottom of his problems

And when I try, he bursts out with rages

Late again but this time he looked so different

He looked at me with a look I hadn't seen before

I took a deep breath, looked lovingly in to his eyes

'Sir, my dad can't afford to feed us all'

My heart sank and I went to me knees

My eyes welled with guilt at this 8 year old boy

He only had one meal every single day

My job, to find the child's lost joy

I told him I would help and speak to people I know

This stops now and support with be found

That night I cried as I struggled to understand

Another family that has nearly drowned

It's 8:30am and you are early again son

He laughed as he ate a breakfast bar

'Sir, I like getting in early.  I like our chats'

Son, you've now turned in to a superstar!

Stay Strong

 It's 3 o'clock in the morning and another sleepless night

Thoughts of insecurity and the demons start to fight

The clock keeps ticking but the time remains so still

Alone in the darken room and I no longer have the will

A bright beam of sunlight comes searching through the room

Unable to face the day as the smallest demons still loom

Each step met with a lethargic pause and a helpless small tear

Since when did I hate myself and live in a world I fear

Not knowing who I am and where to find a helping hand

People don't see the hurt; they will never understand

An unknown truth still hides behind the weak misguided smile

For years I've known this torture; for years I've been in denial

Each day gets harder and harder to operate my usual self

Occupying body and mind is difficult when fighting mental health

The proverbial four walls close in and the space quickly disappears

My mind begins to race as the demons go through their gears

A message from a friend came arrowing out of the blue

It broke my silence when they simply asked, 'Mate, how are you?"

The flood gates burst open and a call shortly ensued

I couldn't believe the support; I was overwhelmingly moved

My door is always open but I will never understand

But I will listen to your thoughts and I'll even hold your hand

In these times of difficulty, I'm only a phone call away

It is important we all believe and say that it's ok not to be ok.