(Poem - Entrance to sentience)

Entrance to sentience

No one knows his struggle,
Only what they see,
His days are spent with laughter,
The nights not what they seem,
Al Green's music playing hoping to soothe the pain,
As he lays back alone staring into space,

Pressure is rendered upon a troubled soul,
As fear and woes all start to unfold,
A cold edge streams gently to the ear,
Leaving behind the tracks of a tear,
Travail unmasked when no-one is near,
The gateway for which road to travel is clear.

by Alfonso P. Sosa