"Keep going," they say, as if they really understood my story.
"Keep going," they say, as it has only two words, less than a second to utter, it won't be a bother for them, it won't take much of their precious time.
"Keep going," they say like it's supposed to encourage, and give strength, someone who's on the verge of losing again.
"Keep going," they say only to dismiss me.
"Keep going," they say as if they really care.
"Keep going," I heard myself say.
"Keep going," my voice echoed and reverberated through my whole being.
And so I did. I kept going. I didn't need others to tell me that. I needed to hear it from myself. For someone who forgot to think of himself as more for a long time, it was a wake up call. All this time, I just needed me
to tell me
to not give up just yet.
YOU ARE READING
Mediocrity
PoetryA collection of poetry and prose that border on mediocrity. Do not expect anything great here.
