Attend to your wounds,
mark your loss and
bear your scars - for
each wound is a win,
a mark of survival, worth
wearing on your sleeve.

This world will throw you storms,
Sending shock waves to your knees.

They'll make you taste sugar.
Then watch you as you crumble.

They'll stake their claim.
Decide your name.

Tell you.
You're good.
Just not good enough.

Dreams you hold dear.
Will die out faster than any star.

This world will teach you.
Your blood, sweat and tears.

It's the only way.
You can live to survive.
Just for another day.

In a world that was rigged.
From the day you were born.

This world can be cruel.
That is why it needs you.

To shine the way.
You were always supposed to.

This world will take everything.
So you mustn't give your dreams away.

When they tell you.
To stop looking at the sky.
Do it anyways.

This world ran on dreams.
Long before reality.

When the water comes
and the waves reach the shore
of the brink you’re sitting on,
don’t run,
don’t slip away;
look down instead.
If feeling the water sink in
will make every breath you do take in
more precious than a seapearl,
then jump.
Jump and drown in the sea.
Then live when you leave.

i saw a cat crying
weeping into his bright pink paws.
and, as every human should, I went to him
"Oh Mr. Whiskers, why do you cry?"
he looked at me and said
"Why do the sparrows have wings?
for that makes them harder to catch"
"Why do the rats have noses?
by which they could smell me from afar."
"Why do the snakes live in burrows?
deeper than my paws can scratch."
"Why do the fishes swim so fast?
i can't even get a midnight snack"

I laughed "Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha"
like there was a ticklish feather on my belly.
"Oh Mr. Whiskers, why do you think you have claws?
why do you think you have those fangs?
why do you think you have that fur?
It is your life to hunt
and it is their life to run.
It is your life to leap
and it is their life to fall.
So don't be sad Mr. Whiskers
dry up your pretty paws.
The road ahead is full of scurrying things —
Let your claws do what they're made for.

They tell me tomorrow holds promises,
But I don’t see them.
I don’t believe in miracles,
But I might believe in maybe.

I didn’t want tomorrow,
But I opened my eyes.
They call it trying-
I call it surviving.

Another sunrise I didn’t ask for,
Another breath I didn’t choose,
Same ache,
But different.

Because I’m still here

I want to be the dandelion
growing in between the cracks
in the sidewalk
living in spite
of everything trying to
**** it

She said “I don’t think I’m ok,
infact that much I know.”
She spends every single day
running against the winds blow.
When did she stop trying?
Did she even ever start?
Spends all of her time crying
as if to water a drought.

The tight rope is too tight,
and you walk a very thin line.
Another day and it’ll be alright,
and tomorrow you’ll be fine.

She said “I don’t want to a survivor.”
I tell her there’s worse things to be.
Keeps holding her breath like a diver,
but lack of oxygen is worrying.

We were standing right under the streetlight,
with no stars in our sight but those created with might.
With the cold’s bite making our skin burn and bright
saw the discomfort in my sight, “you got to clutch your jacket more tight.”

Now the pool is just too deep,
and your laps aren’t making time.
Another day and another promise to keep,
and tomorrow you’ll be fine.

The tight rope is too tight,
and you’re walking a very thin line.
But if you hold on with all your fight
then tomorrow you should be fine.

Drown in your sorrow and fears,
Choke on your blood and your tears.
Bleed 'til you've run out of years.

     We must do what it takes to survive!

     Give up your honor and faith,
Live up your life as a wraith.
Die in the blood where you bathe

     We must do what it takes to survive

     We are the same, you and I