The Music Of The Moon Poem by RIC BASTASA

THERE IS pain in my eyes
but the glisten like glass against the
light,
there is pain in my arm
but my fingers make a circus
show
to cover the pain
inside,

there is pain in my heart
but my mouth speaks about
other things
and true enough
no one notices
what suffering is all about

Will pain be more painful if it
is known?
Or will it do good for the rest
if we keep this pain
silently as our own?

Soon i shall know
that people are just moving on with their lives
Pains kept secret
Disappointments remaining unshared

Perhaps none can help
There is no balm that usages

I tried telling a friend once
and he's saying It's none of his business

Pain is beautiful
In the silence of the room
Where the sound of sobbing
becomes music for the moon.