Chaos. Life is chaos. Tumultous as the ocean deep.

Big crashing waves. I am near deafened by their roar.

That, right there, is how life tends to feel.

And me? I'm in a small boat. No sail. Just one oar.

&amp;#x200B;

Patch the boat. Fix it. Plug every single hole.

The water leaks in? That's fine. You can do it.

Keep going. Fix it. The boat won't sink.

Not with you at the helm. You are the captain. You are fit.

&amp;#x200B;

Keep telling yourself these words. Keep trying. 

Keep pushing. Keep sailing. You know that you're tough.

Keep fighting. Keep at it. Keep fixing. Keep going. 

Don't ever give up. Even when the words no longer seem enough.

&amp;#x200B;

The storm. It will pass. It eventually must.

No storm can keep raging. In this you must trust.

Otherwise, you'll doubt yourself. For when is enough?

The waves, you feel yourself drowning. This sensation. Rough.

&amp;#x200B;

But you can do it. Surely. Keep going. It's all that you know.

You've braved every storm before. Even if you did not row. 

Looking for an island in the ocean. Somewhere to port.

A place for your anchor. A place where you can sort.

&amp;#x200B;

The mind. It is weary. The mind, it needs hope.

The mind it knows storms. The mind struggles to cope.

But once day, you're certain. A port will apear. 

And trust, that the land beneath, will then be dear.

&amp;#x200B;

For the struggle in the storms, the storm that has shaped,

the person in his little boat, the one who escaped;

Will leave him appreciating the sand,

when no longer he sails. When he can stand.