January 16th 2018
It’s like the beauty of getting snail mail or the traditional feel of an old wives tale. A piece of heather, a lucky rabbits foot.
Peeling an apple in one go and then throwing it over your shoulder to make the initial of your true love.
They’re all good stuff, but are they enough?
What happens when you’ve tried all the achey achey oils and the wakey wakey pills?
Most give up leading to addiction or negative connection. The rest just make do with a good old breakdown of which there’s a few. If you’re picky you even get to choose.
But then, what if you don’t want to quit? Maybe you’ve done your breakdown, had your rock bottom. Felt the world has ignored you and now aren’t ready to be forgotten.
What of those who still have that splinter in their mind and can’t let go? I don’t know many things but I know these are the people we don’t forget.
The ones who say “I’m hurt yeah, but I’m not done yet”
The ones who fight through sweat. The ones with scars and broken jars of hearts and aces with a hundred faces of pain and regret and still they chant with stamping feet and mean glares “I’m not done yet!”
I’m not done being me, being to me your vicious problems and we’ll bring to you our war. We are survivors, legends and will be remembered.
© G.P Williamson 2018