My Reign Over My Survival

I was tired, so weary, feeling dusty and trampled

Sick of trying to escape from this escapism world,

My life fighting, pushing, straining against me

I was convinced I was fighting the underworld.

***

It got so my smile was worn out, more of a facade

I would feel my tears flowing, much to my disgust,

Drying my eyes once more, plastering on my smile

I then hoped, prayed, it would soon turn to stardust.

***

I have always been sadly aware of my lot in this life

As I was born to handle it all, born to be a fighter,

You’ve only to study my scars and pain to see that

It was these trials that helped me become a survivor.

***

I knew that I was strong, never allowing it to beat me

My very life is a reflection of all those experiences,

My heartache, my pain, my traumatic past years

Tried my strength with its obsessive inconveniences.

***

Death knew by then, what a difficult nemesis I’d be

But I did not take into account the consequences,

By holding onto life so tenaciously, I suffered more

The loss and grief played havoc with all my senses.

***

Yes I am older, though I’m not sure I’m any the wiser

I prefer to think I’m more likely seasoned, as I’ve aged,

I’ve abandoned my dreams of a life without turmoil

That’s never been a possibility the way my life is staged.

***

There is a age old language that I refuse to ever use

That is one of complaining, that’s not how I cope,

I suffer in silence, where I reign over my very survival

And my throne in which I sit, is one of love and hope.

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Originally posted on Medium