Grit Your Teeth
When life gets hard,
and you start whining upwards to the ceiling
like it owes you something,
remember this:
your “broken” life…
the job you hate,
the cold coffee,
the loneliness you dramatize…
is a gold-plated dream
for someone clawing through real darkness.
Some poor bastard out there
would sell his last scrap of hope
just to stand where you stand,
just to taste your cheap problems,
just to bleed your kind of blood.
It doesn’t make your pain noble.
It doesn’t make it pretty.
It just means the universe
doesn’t care about your complaints…
and someone else
is praying for the privilege
to hurt like you do.
stop begging the sky to feel sorry for you.
It won’t.
It never has.
It never will.
So grit your teeth,
swallow the self-pity,
and keep moving.
The world is burning,
and you’re lucky enough
to only feel the smoke.
