Incomplete Poem by Amy Fifita

We are the incomplete,
We are the lost,
The buried, the ones that sleep.
Sadness steals; happiness cherishes
Love perishes, hate grows,
Pain murders our souls.
It sinks in like a brick,
Brings us down,
Drowns us.
But it is our choice,
It strengthen or to weaken,
But a fall happens before a stand.
We will always be the buried and the sleeping,
Unless we wake up and dig ourselves our.
We will always be the lost,
Until we find a path.
We will always be incomplete,
If we let sadness nest within.