Poem of the week

The struggle is oh to real. Your struggle might not be my struggle and i might not understand what your going through but i understand how you feel. Rather it is bills, pills, family or addiction that physical state of mind that turns the world in to a battle field. Making you the target of everyone’s judgement or sympathy. Or making you the solider isolated in the trents hoping to hide from the reality of the situation you can’t seem to beat. The pressure weighing on your back start’s to put a stain on your feet making your knees buckle and your heart weak. The struggle is oh to real. Your struggle might not be my struggle and I might not understand what your going through but I know how you feel. The feeling that slowly manifest into hate making your mental state break draining your hope and stealing your faith. Leaving you feeling alone in room full of people. Cracking that phony smile that you put on for years to cover the tears you fear someone will see. That your life has been a charade a game well played a path half paved with a detour cause you have been afraid. To let any one in to pull you from the edge that you stair down in hopes it will end. The words of comfort that some offer are far from it. They are like salt shaken on the womb when it comes from the ones that have never been through what you’ve been through. Everyone’s struggle is different and you should never pretend that you can relate if this bitter pie has never been on your plate.
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