Indent Poem.

We could last through the miracles,
But could we last through the tragedies?
How can we continue our lives,
While they are still there?
Every minute of every hour.
Of every day,
They will be there.
We can't hope to think,
That they can all find better,
Because they will always remember.
That day, that night, that scene.
Stuck in my head, begging for attention.

Ok, so I'm just calling this an indent poem, because of the indent, of course. I made it because of the starving or sad people in foreign countries. Can't type much, throat feels TERRIBLE. :L