The Nightmare

I’ve fallen more times than I can count.
But I still get up.
No matter how deep the cut,
I rub some dirt on it
and move.

Because you endure.
What’s the alternative?
Roll over?
Write it off as bad luck?
Call yourself a victim and coast?

That’s not living.
It’s survival.

You might not die today.
Might even die one day—
safe, warm, loved.

But deep down,
you’ll know:
You never really tried.
Not honestly.
Not with both fists.

What if you gave it everything
and still failed?

Yeah.
That’s the nightmare.