They told me,
The curse of a functioning heart is,
You don't get to choose what fades,
And what stays
A couple years ago,
I believed the same

But now I know better,
I don't think there is anything passive about a survival.

You wake up, you look into the worn eyes of your reflection
Devoid of the shine, you used to be complimented at
You sigh and then force a smile,
For yourself.
there is no one else
Whom you owe a smile,
More.

And every minute is a battle;
A choice,
To succumb and be a victim of circumstances
Or,
Fight, to have what you deserve.

There is nothing passive about living, and that's how it should be maintained