Persevere

Persevere.

Creases and smudges, a tear stained book,
emotions like ink fall to the floor.
As the words and verses, turn quickly to curses,
a strain of heartache; placed back in the draw.

She locked it away, with a key full of anger
and waited for the morning to arrive.
Hours pass slow and this we all know,
when struggling with the will to survive.

There was a shop she'd loved as a child
and outside stood an old man with his wife.
He held out a book that felt sprinkled with luck
blank pages, with one chapter that read: Life.

Clutching it tight; all expression washed away,
as she ran home not caring who stared.
Was it dread or confusion, fate or dissolution,
that kept her from feeling prepared.

A misty cloud of clutter swamped her mind,
frustration overflowing into fear.
She pulled out a pen, which is exactly when
the point of the book became clear.

Let the ink flow freely like a stream of trust,
allow yourself to feel something isn't right.
Because time has a way of healing they say,
seize the strength of an army; the will to fight.

Now not all battle scars are visible,
we hide behind the voice that says to others 'I'm okay'.
And although roads will end, others will bend,
allowing fate to always find a way.

- Lauren McKenzie.