The sad part is how easy it would be

to just give it all up.

To forget the work

to forget the dream

the sweat

the blood 

the tears.

 

It is a matter of will they say

but are they fighting against a plaugue

of anxiety and fear

tormented at night by the nightmare

that leave no memory

or trace of their existance 

with all but a pounding heart and shortness of breath?

 

How many times have I wished for escape

an end to the torment

an end to the pain

an escape into normality

and the finding of hope,

but it was cutting that allowed me to cope.

 

How much regret must I have?

How many questions and hatred must I face

as the night comes back 

and my heart begins to race.

 

It's sad how easy it would be to give up

on a fight, a battle, a war

to loose all that you have been fighting for.

 

So I do my best

and live in my stress

and fight my demons away,

keeping my head above the water

made from shed tears,

trying to stay clean.

 

Still everyday it gets harder

to find hope and strength to go on,

but all I know now is that I can't give up.