Unwarranted shame imprints on the mind
Poisoning otherwise pure moments
Infecting the smiles of momentary relief
From a grief abundantly potent.
The struggle to heal and fight is real
The weariness impedes battling limbs
The heart, the stomach, the brain all weak
Marching making no more than a quiver.
Dragging the soulless creature to the front
To face the demons with open arms
Embrace or decline? It is not yet decided
But a fight will occur ’til death do us parted.