Let me inspire you

It's either get a way out, or look for a permanent out. That's right people, give me room, or see my six feet under. Do or die, this is the way that we live. So right now it's the literal version, with no last chances or what if's or buts, this is it. The monotonous sound of a thousand people screaming and at the core of each one of them a beating heart. Pumping life saving blood through the already dead bodies, with ears deafened to the sound of forgiveness and wellbeing. With minds so far gone that nothing and no one can reach them, and through all of this they put on limp foot after another every day just to see if it'll get better. Every putrid miserable day they take their happy suits and fake smiles form the closet and put them on for a new day. Step out into the world just hoping and praying that something will change, but it never does. But still they keep going, to the very end, when they get pushed just that little bit too far. When they can't stop, and say no, to the voice in their head saying do it. Pull the trigger, take the pill, jump. Billions of hearts, all crying for someone to say I care. Someone to hold them, wipe the tears from their eyes and tell them - It's gonna be okay. For one person to look them in the eye and say that they know what's going on, and they can help them. But every day it's just same. The people ignore their hearts, telling them to speak out and say that they know. Because they’ve spoken out before, and they've ended up in the same position you're in. What's the point in living; when the only chance you're gonna get at happiness lays at the smoking end of a lighted blunt. The swish of the final dregs of the bottle of jack and the point of the needle, ready to insert toxic love into your already black blood. There is none. No point. But yet, we go through it every day for some purpose. Some reason. Some stupid thought that one day, it'll all get better. We ignore the voice. That ever present voice that whispers blissfully in your ear - Pull the trigger, take the pill, jump. We push it aside, and stand up. Wipe the snot from our nose, the tears from our faces. Remove the weights from out chests, and scream to the world that I don't care. I don't care about your trials, your tribulations, your put downs. Your insults, your tests, anything and everything you throw at me to put me in the ground I'll combat and make it to my advantage to make me strong. All this, we go through every day. For what? To live. To survive. To prove to everyone that ever called you weak that you really are strong and you won't ever give up. To prove, to everyone that ever did wrong to you, that you can do right by them and still walk though the blazing inferno of your own self hate and hurt to embrace them with a smile, and a voice that says - I forgive you. Every day, we survive. We grow. We live. For what? Well, that's your own story to tell isn't it?