I Could’ve Died Last Night
You say I don't look sick,
when I don't know how sick looks.
You say what number is my pain,
but it cant be described in your books.
Your mind is not designed to comprehend the bind,
still I entertain your curiosity
and try to explain it sometimes.
Take a glass, break it up and give it a good grind.
Put it in a needle and shoot it through your veins,
now the glass is moving, hows that for pain?
Its slicing me up from the inside out,
still I don't let out a yell, a scream or a shout.
The glass travels around, exposing tissue inside,
but you think I'm ok just because I don't cry.
It gets stuck in my spleen and cant get out the other side,
now my spleen is 3x a normal person's size.
To keep me alive my heart works over time,
yet God is still good because I didn't die last night.
When death becomes a welcomed option just to escape the pain,
can you imagine living everyday with that on your brain?
Of course, its not cancer so the supporters are few.
They come and they go and you're left with just you.
No one believes me because I look just fine,
but how about taking a look at the war on the inside.
A war in my body, a war in my mind.
Could you, would you, be able to fight this fight?
I can, I will, because God didn't take my life, last night.