Everyone has baggage in life; some heavier than others.
What defines the person is how they choose to deal with that problem.
There are people who are ashamed.
There are people who ignore the problem all together.
Then there are the people that fight.

Cancer is a dangerous criminal stealing lives everywhere it goes.
Never leaving one untouched; the person or their loved ones.
My dad has cancer; that’s my baggage.
I could yell and scream and cry but what would that do; many would give up and accept it.
Then there are the people that fight.

Life is not always easy sometimes we feel like giving up,
Other times we feel like we are indestructible; impervious to everything.
Living precariously; never knowing what can happen.
Witnessing the good and bad days, not knowing what will come, and always worrying about what tomorrow will bring.
Then there are the people that fight.

It’s one long journey we partake in, never knowing what’s around the bend.
Accepting the cards we are dealt and learning to love our flaws.
We all have problems whether with our selves or others.
Everything we do defines who we are; there is always an easy way out.
Then there are the people that fight.

This poem can not be finished because the finish line is not in the foreseeable future.
I can not tell someone what it coming just like no one can tell me when the journey ends.
Each day has to be honored and never taken for granted.
Life is composed of symphonies, different notes, and rhythms; each page is one of a kind.
Then there are the people that fight.

Some people have home problems,
Some school or something completely different.
People have abusive parents, split homes or no money to spend.
Everyone has a different set of bags; it’s the ones that give up that upset me.
Then there are the people that fight.
That’s who I want to be. One of them.