Blood & Mud.

some days we just wake up sad.

it creeps up on us, slowly

like a shadow in the afternoon, climbing up the wall.

until suddenly it’s all dark

and we’re cold

and alone.

some of us take pills to help

some hold our loved ones close

and some of us simply sit with our back to the world

and our eyes fixed on the horizon

watching the sun set

praying for tomorrow.

and it’s funny how the best of us

have the worst stories to tell

and we hide our sadness behind a smiling mask

while our hands sweat

and our lungs collapse

and our hearts break.

and the ones who keep up appearances

often cry behind closed doors

and while the world simply walks right by us

we’re reaching out

for a hand to hold

for someone to care.

because we’re the ones who care the most

the ones who’s dreams are disturbed

who spend their nights tossing and turning

sleepless and insane

waiting for the sun to rise

staring at the roof.

and some of us don’t make it

it’s too easy to succumb

there’s only so many times

we can cry on the floor of the shower

before we question

why we’re still here at all.

and our blood flows freely

for those who have hurt us so severely

and the salt rubbed in our wounds

is just another scar

waiting to be formed

from someone else’s knife.

but those of us who carry on

do so with heavy hearts

weighed down by sorrow so deep

it’s like wading through mud

guilt stricken and dirty

we come home.

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