No.
Stop, please...
How do you not know
how strong you are?
You are human aren't you-
made of star stuffs
like me? Pieced together,
clawing at existence for another day.
Each breathe belies worth,
there was effort in your breathing.
How do you not see it?
That's the difference between the living and the dead-
the shear desire to survive.
You have paid the price already
to exist.
Fight for it, life is worth
how you struggle for it.
You gain what you put in.
There is no fun in easy,
only grey, weary complacency
tired and in its bed.
Do not fall simply to your rest,
swallowed whole by puffed up sheets-
Strive for the colored life.
Splashed with passion's hues
pulled from the painted memory
of any human soul-
that is when living
truly comes to life.