So...I've been watching a lot of Shane Koyczan lately, and when I was in the shower I suddenly had a really strong urge to try writing something in his style...though of course not as good, cause his stuff is amazing, but hopefully not too bad. (Seriously, check out this video', it's incredible! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltun92DfnPY )

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When everything is taken from us so we cry ourselves to sleep because tears are all we have left.
When the embrace of nothing seems a mercy because all that we have is tearing us apart inside.
We are a battered boat weathering a storm of sorrows that we can’t see an end to, and when we managed to make our way to shore all we hear is:

“It’s just a cry for help.”

Every time we survive,
Every time we teeter on the edge of that cliff,
No matter how loud we scream.

"It’s just a cry for help."

We all have our dreams, our little spark that drives us on in life, that spark can never die.
When a woman wants to live their life as an artist and the world drowns out their voice with a chorus of disagreement their flame does not go out.
They’re told a different path to take, and though their flame my flicker and bend,
It is still ablaze inside.
Every day that she lives she waits for the day where she can finally have her dream,
Her flames become a wildfire,
Burning against all that she is,
A force so strong that it cannot be contained,
It burns through her to ignite her body ablaze because nobody is willing to help her let it out.
She cries and screams for help in her room every night and everyone hears it and does nothing.
She watches the building across the street burn,
A man inside screaming for help only to be aided moments later by the firemen,
But though she screams every night as her heart burns a million times brighter than any house ever could nobody all that she hears is the echoes she’s heard all her life.

“It’s just a cry for help.”

But there’s nothing just about it.
The world hears our cries and knows that just like anyone else,
We need that help, but they have decided that we are not important,
That a woman drowning in a kiddie pool
Is greater than a boy drowning in an ocean of their own tears,
That a man falling down a flight of stairs means more
Than a child dropping off the cliffs of despair.
That the dangers they see are greater than the dangers they hear,
That each man,
Woman,
And child,
Who has been swallowed by the jaws of depression was already set to be there.
They give up before they’ve even begun,
Because they’re too scared to face what they’ve never known,
The beasts in the darkness that claw bits of us away every night because there’s no one to fight for us.
And each morning where the beast has left its scars upon us we hear the same line again.

“It’s just a cry for help.”

Eventually,
We stop crying and let the beast have us.
They feed the beast every day and don’t understand when it feeds upon us.
Crying tragedy and ignorance as they nudge the next morsel towards its fangs.
But the beast is not unscathed.
There are wounds upon it from those who have fought it, and though they fade as it feasts, the marks made by those that still fight remain.
We have learned night after night to fight off this beast.
And though it has torn as apart inside, we have each learned our own ways to fend against it.

So know that you are not alone in fighting this beast.
And though it may seem that nobody understands,
Though when you cry for help all you can hear is that phrase.
It’s not because there’s nobody out there to help you.
It’s because you’re listening to what is said instead of what isn’t.
For how is one supposed to answer your cry?
When they’re already fighting the beast by your side.