I yank my hand back each time it gets too close to the fire.
I’m in fight or flight, and times, they have never been so dire.
I wipe my brow from my close call,
Never giving it much thought at all.
Yet, when the pain runs so deep it’s in my veins,
I struggle to confidently take the reigns.
In my heart, I know with each scrape and every bruise,
I get closer and closer to having to choose.
Your words and your actions pierce my skin like glass,
While I beg for this attack to be your last.
My voice I know can save me with its power,
Yet I’m plagued with its repercussions hour after hour.
A civil war deep within me rages,
As my hope for peace within me wages.
The battle lines, they must be drawn,
Before all of the tranquility is gone.
But how do I confront the ghosts of fear?
While with their armor of self-doubt, they draw near.
The flames on the battlefield have never burned so hot,
But yank my hand away, I have not.
I wipe my brow while I crawl,
Because it’s all I can think about at all.
I know it’s on my feet I must stand,
And all of my self-doubt must be banned.
My soul by the flames has already been burned,
And these scars take time to heal I’ve learned.
When will you see what you have done to me?
The same again, things will never be.
The battle lines, they must be drawn,
Before all of the tranquility is gone.
I will fight the ghosts of fear head-on,
Armed with the hopes of tomorrow’s dawn.
I yank my hand back from the fire,
Because the stakes, they have never been higher.
Photo: Flickr – KateR