Soft Poem by Andrew Hinton

They said I was too soft,
That my dreams were too aloft.
They don't know the monster that I hide,
That is clawing and fighting deep inside.

Do they want me to set it free?
Though in chaos my soul would be?
They say that I over think,
But I have come back from the brink.

I know the things I am capable of,
But I chose instead to search for love.
So now they may call me weak,
And tell me of a future bleak.

In them I see the same mistakes,
And I wonder if they know the stakes.
But maybe I am just bitter,
Tired of playing a babysitter.

Let them go and play their lives,
Just like children caught with knives.
But joy and happiness you know they will find,
while your sorrow and depression slowly bind.