Strength bellows as our fear hides away.
Through blood and sweat, we stand alive- fighting
for what remains, grasping for what's beyond. We are what's left.
There is no mask to be worn in this state.
This state of fury & passion & every bit of love you can muster.
There is no mask to be had, to be held, to be worn.
Where we go from here is situational but it is not out of hand.
What you do with what you hold is within the grasp of only you.
My nights flutter like dreams while my days carry on
like weeks but we do not dread on that-we do not soak in what drags.
We cut the length, we mix it with our clouds
we carry it with our love and our light.
We bring our darkness on our brightest days
to remind that there is more than the depths
of depression and what forms around it.
The cushion of hate and disgust
that comforts you like muscle memory on a bike.
You train yourself every time you choose hate over love.
Every time you soak instead of fly, you are learning and remembering.
Choose the fight.Do not let this world dim your light.
Carry your hell if you must, but always mix it with the rest.
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