Survival isn't necessarily poetic,
Like the words of this poem,
it can be exhilarating,
exhausting,
enigmatic,
and yet not be poetic.
It can have rhyme schemes,
daydreams,
lazy hymns,
light beams,
internal screams,
like the ones entwined in this poem,
and yet not be poetic.
Survival doesn't need battle scars,
history of wars,
a trigger,
anything bigger.
All it needs is a flash of trust,
a burst of hope,
and a bunch of acceptance
to get past all that-
the state of denial,
the snake around your neck,
and the bags under your eyes.
Your very own battle cries.
So take this poetry
as your beam of light,
as an escape from the bland
wordings of survival,
and climb up and up
and out of sight
of the rock bottom
that you're planning to hit,
before you start healing.
Start breathing
Before you can't anymore.