Tears of a Failure

My eyes are filled with the tears of a failure,
but I refuse to let them fall.
I refuse to let flow, my emotional water.
I want no one to know how I feel.
I want no one to see my pain.
I am not made of steel
but tender emotions
that I refuse to show.
For years, I’ve been waiting in patience
for the love of my life to return;
for my health to restore itself.
I’ve failed miserably.
No matter how hard I try,
nothing seems to go right,
so only at night, I cry.
I needed help,
but no one seemed to notice
that I was in battle with my inner self,
so I suffered in silence, alone.
In the dark
my voice is a lonely, breathless moan.
I guess, to everyone else, my voice sounds like a low whisper.
I feel as if
I’m an insignificant miser.
As if I was born to fail;
born a wretch.
My life an empty pail.
I’m tired of people telling me, “Well, someone has it worse.”
Like I don’t know or think about that.
But, why am I the one who has to think of others first?
I can’t help them
if I can’t help myself.
Now I feel my tears sliding down my face, leaving a trail of sticky film.
How do I get back to where I used to be?
I’ve tried for years.
I’m begging: I need someone to help me.
I pray and I pray and I pray;
however; it seems as if my prayers for myself aren’t heard,
because I feel more like a failure every day.
I’m still stuck behind the tinted window of my…
inner sanctum,
watching other pass by,
while trying to capture
the flowing tears
of a failure.