Friday, 11 November 2016

#whimword - console

Poetry again from me. I can neither confirm nor deny this was inspired by recent world events.

No Consolation

When the shit hits the fan it's tempting to hide,
batten down the hatches and ride out the storm.
Grief hits the heart hard, tears it apart
And makes it feel like every beat is bleeding.

But here's the thing:
This is the moment where we get back up again,
Broken and beaten but still strong
This is the part where we go on and win.

I will wear my scars with pride
But I won't let them see me weak
They don't get to see me bleed
I will not cut myself for them

This is far from over
I will not accept defeat
Don't talk to me about consolation prizes
I'm sounding the drums of war

I'm done with hiding,
Through with hurting for someone else
This is the moment, this is our time
Let them see what we're made of

I swear on every bone in my body that this isn't done
I swear on the blood in my veins they haven't won
we're on the right side of history;
Let's go raise some hell.

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