This is how I have survived
For days, weeks even, for the years I’ve been alive
There are many methods one may try
From Crying to Lying
And even a hope that the floor likes blood,
Just the first two out of these I have done, to myself.
With the third, will not you help me please?
Sadness seems to be in love with me, and misery loves it's company
So won't you help me survive the days?

Many roads for one to choose
But this is what I have done
My own path
Oh, what a path it is.
It’s a path covered in thorns and overrun with flowers that no one can see.
We can only see the few,
Roots come, cracking through the ground
Careful now, don’t trip
The roots caused me to frown
But the worst part was, and still is the cause,
That part of the path has not yet run its course.

But enough about me and my life and my scene.
This is for you, so that you can see
Happiness here is a strange strange thing
It flies and falls on cement wings
The point of survival here is that
Happiness needs some help
Help to fly and soar and see
The skies to which the other birds flee
This is how I have survived the Days
Give happiness a hand with it's mystrious ways.

Surviving the Days is a rough, hard thing
These Days, those Days, new Days, old Days,
The Days are hard to survive
Does anyone know why?
But recently it has occurred to me that we should not be surviving,

We should be living.

Days 01-07
A crying child sits in the corner of his room…
How can he survive?
Endure is a better word,
And no one knows my little bird
How did he just survive the Day
The Day in which many would break away
But he did. He endured. He survived.
Hope maybe,
This is how he has survived the Days
Hope is his solution here
Never lose hope, may it never disappear
For when hope goes, all light does too
They’re tied together
You'll learn soon

Days 9 and 10
He’s too worried, too scared
Too thoughtful, in despair
He’s sad when he’s there
But he’s sad here too
Oh dear…
He’s a good student and an alright son,
A dream boy to you but an enemy to some,
How could a boy like that hate himself?
Ask him.
He asks himself all the time.

How could he survive those Days?
Destiny maybe?
Faith?
Love?
Friends?
Family?
Oh, too many questions
Spinning in his head like a hopeless injection
Lied to me?
How dare you?
These are things he says in the mirror.
How?
Why?
Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
Dizzy.
Black.
Awaken.
Two years have slipped through his fingers.

Day 11
This day is…easier...and harder
I have not survived this Day so far but…lived it.
It’s now 3:23 pm and 10 seconds
Getting closer and closer to midnight
We’ll see what is yet to come.

Surviving the Days is hard, as it seems
It will be easier with time,
Because with time comes ease,
Surviving the Days has become a talent,
A skill,
A power of will,
An instinct,
A reaction,
It truly is tragic.

Living however, is everything...