So cruel can be
the revolving day.
Creating questions;
coldness on display.
Answers elude,
leave bitter tastes.
Control is illusion;
cursing is a waste.
Wake everyday,
well earned slumber.
Seeing obstacles,
conspiring thunder.
We loose people,
ones we love the most.
While other burdens
use us as their host.
Agony ridden friends,
let not the world defeat
you from your purpose
or disturb you in sleep.
If you do dwell on
that which brought pain.
Keep your eyes open
so your paths go not astray.
Do not let the world
contort you to it’s whims.
Persevere past pain so
discernment rises within.
We can not change
the past nor should we.
For we wouldn’t know
what pain helped see.
Control we only can
bridle our own selves.
Make not your day
become a lonely cell.
Learn avenues that
steer your mind back
away from shock that
caused you to react.
Turn a page so that
your story moves forward.
Redact the scene and
lean on known shoulders.
Change what you can
let all else slip to the side
so as you stride forward
you and hurt don’t collide.
Consume the cruel,
being not the fool,
that they assumed
would do what they do.
