Member Poem

Your sour breath dies down,
As the wind whispers it’s almost over.
Scream no more.
She is lying here, already broken down.
The blood of her past attempts an overturn,
But her faith is growing
The weak moments might never stop,
But her faith is growing
Your sour words defile the pure path she’s been walking
How can someone who’s survived the numbers
Feel as if it will divide again?
The past has attacked her for so long,
Beating into her mind that her worth is underdeveloped
The reality is she has overcome,
And her faith is growing.
Surviving the numbers
Though she feels so divided.
She looks behind, holding out her hand
Continuing to survive the numbers,
Though it all feels so divided.
Grasp her extended hand.
Scream no more.
She is lying here, already broken down
The apologies are growing faint.
How can they survive the falling stars?
Each one stacks upon the other,
Increasing the load of each year
She looks behind, holding out her hand
Come with me, she whispers
But his anger deafens his ears.
Perception is tough to change
But his anger deafens what he hears. 
Can they survive the falling stars?
Remnants are thrown in ugly ranges
The brightness is too much
How can she shield her eyes?
Damage always sticks around,
Reminding her that her worth is underdeveloped.
But her faith is growing
Can they survive the falling stars?
She looks behind, holding out her hand
She whispers, can we survive the falling stars?
Can we?