They’ll try to hurt you,
try to make you tear.
They’ll push you down,
and feed on your fear.
They’ll rub dirt in your eyes,
and rip your clothes.
They’ll poke you and pick at you,
and your wounds shall show.
So they’ll salt those as well,
and grab at your feet.
They’ll pull you down hard,
even if you accept defeat.
Each day of your life,
a struggle to survive.
They never rest, they never stop,
they only pry.
They pry into your heart,
and try to shut it down.
But don’t you let them get you,
face floor on the ground.
And each breath you take,
will be your victory.
For they rip you apart,
but you keep on living.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem