At least, there's none inside my head.
There's not time for the cry that threatens, though.
I must push it back,
for there's things to do:
others' tears to dry,
and squabbles to settle.
Meals to make, and dreams to peddle.
No, my dear ones, we've not got it all. Perhaps, some say, we've got none at all.
But we've still got us, and that's not small.
My little whos, the world is big, 'tis true.
There will be bad that comes, but we'll make it through.
We always do.