It Is... Poem by Amy Fifita

It'll get better is what you tell me,
But I know it will get worse.
It may lighten into day,
But I know that there is a sunset.
But you prefer to watch the sunrise,
And I prefer the night.
Lifes blackness will always turn to grey,
But will turn back to black.
It's what paints our lives picture
It's the ink that writes our songs,
It is the air I breathe,
The life I live
It is the blood I shed in my pain,
The drug that makes me comatose.
No matter how hard I fight,
No matter how much I cry.
It is never gone,
It just always is...