And Yet I Smile.

Five o'clock.

Alarm screaming like it owes me money.

Another day.

Another fight.

So I get up.

Because that's what you do.

No one's coming to save you.

So you save yourself.

And yet...

I smile.

Alarm at five, eyes red, another fucking morning,

Boots by the door, same old shit, no warning.

Rent's gone up, wages haven't, cupboards looking thin,

Boss wants blood by seven, so I give the bastard skin.

Cold tea on the counter, toast burnt black,

Missus says, “You alright?” — I say, “Yeah,” and that's that.

Truth is I'm exhausted, but I can't let the cracks show,

'Cause little eyes are watching everywhere I go.

Work till my hands ache, rain soaking through my coat,

Counting every penny, trying hard to stay afloat.

Everybody wants something, everybody needs a piece,

But I don't need a mansion — just a little fucking peace.

So I graft.

Yeah, I graft until my back screams,

'Cause the kids need shoes

and the fridge needs food

and my wife deserves more than broken dreams.

And when I walk through that front door,

My little boy comes running.

I drop my keys.

He jumps into my arms.

And for a minute...

I forget.

'Cause life don't give a fuck

How tired you are.

It'll kick you when you're down,

Then ask you where you are.

But I've got two little reasons

That still make the darkness mild...

I could fall apart a hundred times,

And yet I smile.

I've been dragged through the dirt,

I've been beaten by the miles,

I've cried when nobody saw me,

Then I walked another mile.

I've had days I wanted nothing,

I've had nights that wouldn't end,

But I've still got love beside me,

I've still got someone to defend.

So let the world keep swinging,

Let it throw everything it can.

I'll take the hit,

I'll take the pain,

I'll get back up again.

'Cause you can break my body,

You can scar me for a while...

But you can't take the man

who chooses to smile.

And yet I smile.

I lost a mate one Friday night.

Phone rang.

“Mate, you sitting down?”

I wasn't.

Then the words came through

and the whole fucking room went quiet.

One minute he was here,

laughing like a bastard,

talking absolute shite,

making everybody laugh.

Next minute—

Gone.

Blue lights painting red across the pavement,

someone shouting,

someone crying,

someone saying,

“Don't let him go.”

But he did.

And people say,

“Be strong.”

Like strength means you don't fucking grieve.

So I went home

and shut the bedroom door

and finally let the tears fall

where nobody could see.

I looked at the empty chair.

His messages still on my phone.

His name still in my contacts.

And for the first time in years,

I didn't know what the fuck

I was supposed to do.

So yeah...

I grieved.

I still grieve.

Some wounds don't heal.

They just become part of who you are.

And the next morning

that bastard alarm went off at five.

So I got up.