Poem about life as a carer for a father with dementia.
Living this life of insecurity
Memories that appear of impurity
Feeling I am down and out
My mind filled with constant doubt
Of an age where my moves count
My dilemmas just seem to mount
Am I an angel or a devil?
Do I live life on the level?
Can I be trusted not to falter?
And carry on as a carer, poet and writer
My caring soul some days turn black
When my anger rises exploding as flack
A face in front requires a smack
Instead, I hit the wall back
Knuckles grazed and bloody
The bad in me beating the goody
Living a life with countless inferiority
Trying not to let it blight my maturity
Always hiding who I am, the real me
Behind masks, so I can be who I want to be
Of an age where I hope I can say
I have learned from my mistakes today
And what I do will delete what I did
Giving me a fresh start, without being hid
Can I be trusted as this new person?
Or will my self-belief dwindle and worsen
Only I can fulfil and accomplish my goal
Which I know deep down in my soul
A face in front shedding tears
My dear old dad full of his own fears
This is what drives me on through trouble
Being able to help maintain his little bubble
Life is hard, life is sometimes unfair
Realistically life is full of hot air
You are the controller of your destiny
Either, live it openly or in obscurity
I will change who I am
But do not care or give a damn
What anyone else’s opinion is
Because it is all just a swizz
Now I keep on smiling a wide grin
Through the heartache, holding up my chin
My life is complicated, but I am still groovy
Maybe one day, I will make my life a movie.