if we come into this world
from gut-wrenching pain,
covered in blood and guts,
is that how we go through this life
for the rest of our days?
we don’t have a hand to hold
until we make it through the pain.
should we expect the same
through the rainy days?
is there a reason to open our mouths
and speak our truths,
even if they shatter the glass where we stand?
can we shatter the walls we’ve built
brick by brick
with heartaches and mistakes?
can we pack up that guilt
and send it packing?
can we ever make it through the woods
of mysteries and sad lies
that resonate and stick to the soul
with super glue?
is there a way to break the molds
and build better robots with the pieces?
should you buff out that scarlet letter
or make a fashion statement out of it?
if you’ve etched that line
from A to B in your skin,
can you expect anyone to expect you
to jut over to point Q?
how long does it take to retrain
that battered puppy new lessons?
how many steps to the next sinkhole?
can you guess the pattern this time around
before the quicksand grips at your ankles?
if shaky yes’s are still yes’s,
what is a silent internal scream?
is that a no that no one knows?
how do you expect to fly that kite
if you’re holding the scissors at the string?
what are they good for anyways?
“sit there, look pretty, keep quiet”
“yes, good girl”
rip off the duct tape
and unstitch those wounds.
let it bleed.
show your colors.
do you bleed red too?
don’t we all bleed red
when the sun goes down?
then why do we carry pitch forks
and hide a gun under the pillow?
who are you waiting for?
who’s coming just around the corner?
are you waiting to fight your inner demons
Or just the shadows?
let’s dance on their graves,
the graves of our past selves.
maybe we don’t win the fight
or even this battle.
maybe we rest our heads
and wait for the sun to come up again.
courage is the act of getting up another day
to fight to live another day.
courage, dear soul.