As Syria fades beneath clouds of smoke from the daily airstrikes, the author contemplates the gift of life and the duty to live it with dignity, if only for those who have died prematurely 


Alive till I’m dead

Can’t tell the difference anymore, I’m left unsure
My dreams feel so real I feel like I’m sleeping on Elm Street
My eyes are feeling heavy, they’re becoming difficult to carry, it’s hurting me so badly,
You can tell it’s killing me softly; because I’m barely able to stand on my own two feet
I’ve accepted defeat

This life is a rerun and I feel like everything new I see is just a repeat
Looking brawny feeling scrawny
So no one can see that I’m weak or in need
And I’m barely able to stand the sight of what’s in front of me. So I turn on the TV,
But the distress doesn’t ease because all I see is that death comes in threes
It starts of with a soldier, then moves on to a family.
Unfortunately it doesn’t stop there
Because the third strike is the massacre of an entire country.

I see limbs of children, hanging limply where they used to sleep,
And my biggest problem
Is that my pillows could be more comfy.
But times like these remind me I don’t need any feet
To stand on, purely from the bliss I feel kneeling on my knees
Because the greatest strength is provided by God,
So all it takes to get through the grief, is having belief.
That things will get better.

I tell myself to stop feeling bitter, my problems could be bigger.
So even with a bad knee, you can still make a mark on life. Just ask Kobe.
And if I ever get complacent all I have to remember is
God planted two seeds,
But it’s only me that grew to see life. So it’s my obligation
To seize this moment and take advantage of each breath I’m alive
Because I’ve been given the chance to live
Before being made to die
So if this is a dream I’m living in, so be it
Just don’t pinch me till I touch the sky

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