It hurts to stand sometimes. It hurts to stand and to lay and to move and to... live. But I'm not done here yet. I've got love and life and learning to do, and by the GODS I will not give up. I can't give up, because too many lives depend on me. And somewhere hidden in this riddle of flesh, there is an answer but I can never seem to find it. And after the dust has settled and the scars heal over, I am left standing... which though it hurts, is a testament to my strength. And my solemn eyes can see the length and breadth of the world with nary a flinch, for within me is the will of the broken who keep on going... of the burned out building that is still firmly upright... to the sad who still smile
YOU ARE READING
Floating
PoesiaI've collected a lot of works I have made for me and thrown them into a mess of empathic poetry I have done for others.
