I stand tall like an oak tree, sturdy and strong,
Or so it seems-to everyone but me.
What everyone sees is oh, so very wrong;
I am not strong and tall like the oak tree.
I really stand hurt and weak like a sapling:
Tired of the fight,
Weak from pain, and hurt from life.
One day, someone may see
That I am not the strong oak tree.
And maybe they will help me.
Until then, right here I will be-
The small sapling,
Pretending to be the tall, strong oak tree.
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This Poems Story
The inspiration for this poem came from the loss of my grandfather. I was very close to him-my whole family was. When he took his life after battling lung cancer, we all took it hard. We all just kept to ourselves, instead of going through the loss together. "Oak Tree" was a mix of how I felt during that time. Now, my family is back to normal. We still miss Grandpa dearly and are learning to move on, but we still keep him with us. We will forever love you, Grandpa Eddie.