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She Fought Hard

At times believing she’d never succeed

By Colleen Millsteed Published 2 years ago 1 min read
Image courtesy of Pixabay

She took 2024 and rode it all the way into her dreams,

Of course, she didn’t realise it at the time,

Most days she felt like she was bucking her worst nightmares,

Stampeding her greatest fears, and cliff-hanging her greatest climb.

******

She grabbed the bull by its horns and held on tight,

Sacrificed parts of her heart to battle her courage and terror,

Slept in the river of tears that tore her apart,

And trampled through every demonising error.

******

She built herself up from the bottom rung of the ladder,

At times she believed she wouldn’t succeed,

But she fought hard, never cheating her way via shortcuts or easy pathways,

Alone, forever alone, demanding she supply her every need.

******

She drove the roads less travelled with dignity,

Traversing her silent battles through the darkest of nights,

Still she showed up to face the wars she almost succumbed to,

Fists bloody from the never ending fiercest of fights.

******

As the year draws to a close she realised she made it to the other side,

Although well aware she didn’t arrive totally unscathed,

She still battles through the days that terrify her the most,

At times crippled by the fear, the terror, in which she consequently bathed.

******

One day she’ll find the piece of the puzzle she feels is still missing,

That little confidence boost that’ll seal the deal,

Braver, stronger, with each tiny win,

A safety net to fall back on definitely appeals.

******

She dances to the outcomes as specified by fate,

What will be, will be,

She believes the meeting will be an absolute train wreck,

One that’ll set all her fights, her fears, her sole responsibilities and bring them to their knees!

inspirationalsurreal poetry

About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

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    Written by Colleen Millsteed