Whatever does not kill you makes you weaker
For your true unavoidable demise;
Whatever does not augment joy is pointless
But here, I’m not sure what is real applies —
What scares you’s thinking you are trapped, unchanging:
Each held within these things that we call ‘posts’ —
But you keep moving, following the voices,
These words and faces that are merely
Ghosts
To share is human:
