SURVIVAL ISN'T OURS

A fleeting glimpse into this world, Where day wears the face of night, And night mimics the sun’s bright guise, A city’s mirage, ever shifting. But oh, this place is not my home. II Voices gather, calling me fortunate, They say to exist is a blessing. Yet I thread my thoughts like a silent song, Winding through the viper’s gut, A gift adrift, unseen, unsung. III Life dances wild in reckless grace, A rise, a fall, a dizzying pace. And in the end, Even the fiercest hearts may break, For Survival spares not even the strongest. ©2024 - Fearless Lines