We are expected to do great things
To save the world
Even when our own lungs
Heave though each breath
Like they're ******* in water
Instead of air

Know this
Sometimes it is enough
To close your eyes each night
And simply say
You made it through the day
Alive again.

My heart is beating
But I am not alive.
Yet with blood flowing through my veins
I cannot claim the sweet victory of death.
Rather, the meaningless days consume me
Passing by so easily as I whither away.
They laugh and grin as time wastes them.
But I find it leaves a bitter taste on my lips,
That causes me to sometimes wonder
If I am doomed to die with my last breath,
Leaving behind legends of nothingness,
And no one to remember my name.

Bow down to the ***** gods
The spark has spoken

It's just a muscle, she says
Predicts from her bag of tricks
Paints a portrait of my soul in red
It's the last call for your crystal ball
Come remedy your destiny
In a year or two or three
On some rainy November morning
It will stretch back