Perspective

I run as fast as I can. 

The sky gets blacker and blacker.

I hear laughter fill the air where the wind once danced.

I can’t see where I’m going.

There’s no where to hide.

It’s after me.

Telling me that I have no chance.

 Convincing me that there is no change.

Mocking my optimism as if to say,

“This will not help you. It never has.

Your past and your hurt and your pain is flooding back into you. Let it.

It’s consuming you like the vultures devour the dead things.

There will be no resting. 

You will stay up and contemplate your life.

You will ask yourself if the suffering is worth it.

Your mind will collapse under the pressure of thousands of thoughts and your heart will burst into nonexistence.

How does it feel?

To let the bad overwhelm you?

To fold under the weight of the world?

Where are your positive thoughts now?

Where is your reassurance and your recuperation?

You’ve used it all up, haven’t you?

Or did you just get tired of filling yourself with lies?

Feeling the damage inside yet?

Why fight it any longer?

Life has proven that it has no more room for you.

That is why you keep getting the left overs and the scraps.

You ask yourself why someone so good could get the bad hand everytime.

Ill tell you why-”

STOP. 

This isn’t me.

I don’t fold under the weight of the world 

My worries aren’t burdens they’re lessons waiting to be learned I just have to wait until my lesson is earned

I can’t abandon my soul.

It has stuck with me through the good and ugly through the bad and pretty

Reminded me that wishing is not enough and I must work for what I want

And I know it won’t come easy.

That is why I must build thick skin and an even thicker heart because the demons that try to defeat me will not give up so why should I?

Crying is normal.

Crying is necessary.

My tears do not have tags sewn on to them labeling me as weak but rather armor that layers my cheeks and pulls my lips up into a smile as a reminder that I’m still standing.

Yes.

I do wonder why the good always get dealt a bad hand.

Why I never fully get a chance to heal because the hits of the next problem come so quickly.

 And then I realized…

My perspective was off balance.

The sky was not getting blacker, 

The light was just resting so it could shine brighter in the morning.

The air was not laughing at me, the wind had just taken a break from its dance.

I was not getting the bad hand,

I had the entire deck at my fingertips.

And all I had to do was change the cards.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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