Heart in my flesh beating rapidly,
brain in my mind constantly turning.
I close my eyes and for a brief moment
a sigh lets out, wanting to only hear
silence.
To ignore all punches that wounded my body.
A hand, life has been capable of creating,
such power, strength and reason.

Life is hard, we all know that.
It’s a given fact we all grow up and learn from.
But the ability of crashing confidence, self-belief,
is torturing our reason for life.
The stress that attaches with the package is outrages;
it shakes my muscles to pieces, the uncontrollable mind.

I welcome myself to a new world and I’m taking you with me.
It is a journey of struggles; not mine, not yours.
But, the existence of time.
I want to hold a fist, and defend myself.
To have reflex on every attack life flashes,
every swallow of terror will dry out.
We will stand tall, the worthless days are over.
I’m demanding, forcing; another punch to my cheek.
The hand – life has created, will form into a fist,
raising just above our eye level, stopping right in front of us.
How blind we were to see, a fist with a lifetime of
problems, stress, disbelief and struggles.
A breath to end all – bring it.