Reeling from the effects of returning to life
boggled and confused by the sudden hustle and bustle
you stand silent on the side of the road
broken
waiting for somebody to pick of the pieces of you
and think
'maybe this was once something beautiful'
Hope is such as elusive thing as you dream
your nightmares chasing you and stealing your last breath
but all you can do is try again
Breathing gets harder as life goes on
you heal yourself slowly, making yourself into something new
something with faults
but that only makes you stronger
Looking back is not a bad thing
not if you keep moving forward
