Nothing in this life worth fighting for is easy.
And the things that are what we want,
What we fight so hard to get,
Are often those things that hurt us the most.
Not knowing aything is wrong,
In order to fix it before it shatters in your palms
Grasped too tight between feble hands
crashing to the floor with your blood upon its reflection
Ripping out part of our will,
Our sense of reason, our strength to fight.
Even if we are only fighting to get up,
To rise from our bed of needles.
The blood upon the floor,
The ache that is in our chest,
The name that is etched on our heart
The time that can not be reset
The loss of something dear
Something worth the fight
Something that is lost now
the thought of brings on fright....
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