Harder is What She's Known

She survives on coffee and tequila but pretends to love whisky because it's harder

And harder is what she's known

She cries at paper cuts but has gotten up and walked after a crash landing with shards of shrapnel still sticking out of her chest

She hates taking pictures because they never capture her in the way she wishes to be remembered

Quiet is the only thing that soothes her ever-searching soul,

but she so rarely can locate it, save for stolen moments between minutes

She drowns on the daily and rises again...

Never for one second thinking that she is miraculous, rather, just trying to get by

And no matter what level of this twisted life she reaches, she still screams in the night and cries out for a comfort that has never existed in her world

She still grasps through the silent backdrop of night, for peace

only to be met every time by her own shadow

And for as long as she can remember, that will have to do-