You've had a day,
and bad day it was. 
But can you compensate
for another's day's loss?

You may have felt
that you lost the opportunity
but another may have
felt complete disunity.

You may have cried
over something you couldn't keep,
while another hid their tears
over something buried deep.

You may have cursed
the cards that you were dealt,
while another wished
they could feel what you felt.

You call it a disaster,
a world that's turned unkind,
but someone else's battlefield
may be harder to find.

So tell me, how bad is bad?
Is it the pain that you can see?
Or the silent weight
that someone carries secretly?

For what breaks one person
may barely leave a scar,
and what seems small to you
may be another's hardest war.

And perhaps that's the point:
Don't measure pain by what is shown.
You never know how much
another soul has borne.

If you beg, you lose yourself.
A hollow echo rattling on a shelf,
Trading your spine for a passing nod,
Kneeling to mortals as if they were god.

If you give up, you lose dignity.
Surrendering quietly, willingly,
Folding your hands before the bell even rings,
Clipped by the shadow of broken wings.

If you run, you lose courage.
Leaving your blood in the mechanical forage,
Choosing the dark and the safety of walls,
Fading away as the empire falls.

If you cheat, you lose self-respect.
A cracked little mirror of your own neglect,
Winning a race where the finish is fake,
Swallowing water while choking on lake.

If you gossip, you lose love.
Trading the warmth of the skies above
For poison dropped gently from a velvet tongue,
A song of betrayal too easily sung.

But—

If you swim in poison to taste the golden cure,
If the hands that reach for it aren't quite pure,
If you burn your own name just to light up the game...
You’ve lost nothing.
You’ve gained fame.