Why?

I often think about the things that drive men and women to do the impossible when others simply kick them while they are down. What makes us fight? Why do we simply not stay down?

 The earth is cold and hard, as you feel the warm trickle of iron fill behind your lips,

That familiar twang of rust on your tongue,

And that burn in your chest.

As the heat is slowly being sapped from you,

Just like last time.

 

So many times have you woken up at the spot.

So many times, the grass has browned, and the earth has packed,

                Forming a cruel flat to land against when you fall.

 

But still, you push yourself up.

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why do you knowingly chance the pain? The broken bones and shattered dreams?

Why?

Why do you grab that rung with your bloody fingers? Stained and fractured with years of falls.

Why?

Why do you pull with your shredded muscles? Screaming for you to stop.

                For you to give up.

                                For you to just let the pain take you.

Why?

 

Why do you smile when you get up and try again and again?

Each time with more confidence than the last attempt.

Why would you subject yourself to this?

 

Because…you know something.

Something that has been programmed into you,

Something that everyone is born with, but all too often is it snuffed out by society.

 

Thick-headed, some call it, stupid others. But what is it that makes you claw? And work? And makes the suffering bearable?

 

You told me once…and I believed.

 

All that it takes to get back up…is a childish sense to dream.

Author's Note

Give me whatever you got. :)