Keep on

It is working, killing that fire. Keeping the flames from burning away all that is supposed to be real, read with two syllables. The reluctance has grown and its life is willing to crush the little lives. The good morning, the piece that hurts is hiding under a pile of flotsam in the corner. Working hard to make the days go fast, not giving up any of it. The fights I will never win. They are eclipsed by the fights I was scared to make.

The miserly misery of it all, with sunshine still shining across the field.