This will not be the end.
You’re telling yourself that you can’t find a way to breathe another day,
that it’s too hard to hold yourself,
that you can’t figure out what’s killing you.
Yet, you are dying,
but this will not be the end.
Someone should have told you;
that it is unfair for you to carry the world on your shoulders, 5 am to 11 pm.
It is unfair for you to keep picking up the pieces of your mistakes;
why do you make them matter more than they should
– broken glasses should be trashed.
Someone should have told you to forgive yourself.
Someone should have told you to let go and find the heart to forgive them for all the ways they could never choose you over themselves.
Someone, anyone, should have kissed you on the cheek and told you how more than worthy you are,
and that broken dream wasn’t good enough for your amazing.
I could tell you that you’re not doing life right, that’s why.
But dear God, how you’ve tried.
How you’ve gotten yourself out of bed each morning.
How you’ve smiled like you only saw the sunshine when you were the storm.
How you’ve learnt to find hope in the dark of the night, sleeping away the pain.
How you’ve tried, my God, how you’ve fought hard.
Still, this storm will not be the whole story.
You will find a way to dance in the rain.
You will find a way to build a warm fire within you.
You will find a way to push out the darkness.
And then somehow, the light will break out,
because this can never be how the story ends.