The Fight is Real

She awakens to the red sunrise adorning her window,

And lays watching the colour spread over her world,

She knows she should be impressed, knows the view is glorious,

The sun creeping across her bed where she lays curled.

***

Her feet begin to warm in the sunlight,

As does her legs as the sun kisses her from head to toe,

But she doesn’t feel the blissful love from Mother Nature,

She is numb to the beauty of the view, the warmth, as the day begins to grow.

***

She stretches in the sun light, usually in awe of the dawn,

But today she barely even realises,

Her mind off somewhere in the pain of yesterday,

As she swings her legs over the side of the bed and rises.

***

Another glance out of her window,

The dawning rays not breaking through her melancholy,

She dresses without seeing the clothes she adorns,

Sadness her cloak over her usual exciting feeling jolly.

***

For a minute her smile begins to show,

As she watches the antics of her cat,

But without realising her smile quickly turns to frown,

As she remembers the upcoming combat.

***

She stumbles through each minute of the day,

Unaware of exactly what she has done hour by hour,

Just trying to make it through,

Begging the minutes and tasks to automatically devour.

***

She doesn’t want to think, be aware, be awake,

Welcoming the numbness to her feeling,

She needs to forget the pain, the heartache,

Because her mind and heart is reeling.

***

She’s insisting she has to take the time out,

It’s the only way she’ll cope with this insanity,

Without which she’d tumble unendingly through the darkness,

At the whim of the sordidness of humanity.

***

She has no memory of her yesterday,

Wishing to sleep long hours to find some peace,

A break from her torment, her crippling pain,

Just holding on tightly until that day that this may cease.

***

Until then she waits, trying to keep it together,

Knowing she’s broken, an irreparable mess,

The pain is stifling, consuming her entirely,

Leaving her to wander the pathway of stress.

***

Impatiently she begs for this to be over,

Desperately fighting to find the thread of her strength,

Not understanding how it become so unraveled,

Nor anticipating the torment and pain, or its timing and length.

***

Will she survive this latest struggle,

That has beaten down her door,

Invaded her space, her safe haven,

Or will she find her peace, her strength once more?

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Originally published on Medium