survivors guilt (foster care)

The sun begins to rise,
the calmness in me dies.
My alarm pierces my ear,
Still nothing seems clear.

The people I hold dear,
My foster youth peers,
Wander the streets with their hearts full of fear.
It never seems fair,
The why, the when, the what and where,
The success I have and want to somehow share.

Like a sense of survivors guilt that I just can’t shake,
This is a systematic curse I dream to break.