Can't Kill the Flame

The night folds like a tired cat.  

Life isn't easy, no damn surprise.  

Each corner hides another bad joke.  

But still, we crawl through the dust.  

Perseverance tastes like stale bread.  

Confidence? A drunk dream at dawn.  

The mirror mocks, yet we stare.  

We are cursed to keep building fire.  

Gifted, they say, like a wounded dog.  

Something burns beneath the gray sky.  

A whisper, a pulse, a fierce itch.  

Doubt claws, but can't kill the flame.  

The bones creak, the heart stumbles.  

But stubborn fools, we keep moving on.  

Belief wraps its fist around our throat.  

Some things must be, no matter the fight.