If only my innocence, had lasted forever.
If only my worries, were as light as a feather.
The world had other thoughts, and it chose to beat me down.
I lost my great grandpa when I was just ten,
I tried to grieve, but how could I then.
The next year I lost a grandfather, his name was Bruce.
For all his rough edges he sure was a great man, so losing him confused eleven year old me.
Six months later I lost my great grandma.
She had been old and weak, but her heart had still kicked those fiesty beats.
With so much loss my mind began to spin, why did those I love disappear in the wind?
I grew older in age, but my heart always ached.
For those I had lost, it felt just like yesterday.
Sadness led to fear, longing for pain.
Then sadness led to longing for someone to explain.
I loved and lost women and friends, until finally I just begged the world to let it all end.
I sat in the hospital, staring out the window from my hospital bed.
Alone at last, but surrounded by those like me.
The heartbroken, the lost, the one's living through insanity.
But something strange happened that day, something deeply profound.
From that day forward I looked up from the ground.
I smiled more often, and took stock of my life.
No longer did I worry over any perceived misery or strife.
Falling down for so many years had taught me one thing; getting up is your choice, no matter what the world thinks.