IF you can feel your head when everything about you
Is a nightmare and you’re no longer you,
If you don’t lose yourself when all men lose you,
And yet can’t understand why they lost you;
If you can wait and be so tired of the waiting,
And of being lied about, dealing in ifs and whys,
Or being hated, you gave way to hating,
You don't look too good, knowing only tiffs and goodbyes:
If you can dream - and not make dreams a disaster;
If you can think - and not make thoughts all the same;
If you can make Triumph your Master
And have success simply remembering your name;
If you can bear to hear the truth unspoken
Twisted by circumstance, a set of new rules,
Learning that the old life is, just broken,
No longer what was some friends are now simply fools:
If you can make one heap of all your wealth
And risk it on one toss of life’s coin,
If you lose, starting all over the expense your health
The absolute essence of you fate did purloin;
If you can force your memory and nerves and sinew
To serve your turn long after the headaches are gone,
And cling on on when there is nothing left of you
Except the Will which says to them: 'I’m holding on!'
If you can function in crowds when they simply scare you,
If you recognise things - nor lose the sense of touch,
if either friends or loving family can hurt you,
If consultants try to treat you, but none too much;
If you can fill the never ending minute
With sixty seconds of much needed fun,
Yours is your bed and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be brain injured, my son!