Most days I'm sad.
Mediocre sad to.
Like I can't even do that to the fullest.
I'm to tired to even be sad.
Barely making it passed.....breathing.
Coherent ramblings pass me off as,
Okay.

Fumbling with my zipper in the morning.
Mom,
It's inside out.
Laughing it off like duh.
Inside,
I'm failing her.

Most days I am a breath above,
Zombie.
Stringing words together by chance.
Failing.
Her.
Me.
Scrapping my knees on the concrete.
As I pick myself back up again.

Demanding more.
Knuckles raw from dragging,
Myself through each day.
****** noses from the change,
In pressure as I fall again.

Rise.
Stand up.
This life was given to you,
So no one else had to have it.
So beat it.
Fight it.
Challenge everything you thought,
You knew.
This life,
This life was meant for someone like you.

Stand up.