For who said the warrior is dead,
whose sword once struck him from behind?
For he still stands.
For the war is yet to end.
For I too am a warrior,
fighting on a battlefield
my life is one,
and my thoughts are my sword.
Yet at moments,
this very sword pierces my flesh,
this very blade
blocks my way.
But I am wounded, not dead.
I can be healed, if I try.
I can rise, if I give it all.
I can live, if I accept who I am.
Life is tough,
it is rough.
It hunts your vulnerabilities
pulls you from comfort,
damages what is already damaged.
It plants thoughts
that break you down,
that **** you quietly from within.
And yet, in those defining moments,
it is will that lifts you back up.
It is the same sword that struck my back,
the same blade I call thought,
that I now learn to hold…
Jan 3
Jan 3, 2026 at 8:10 AM UTC
For who said the warrior is dead,
whose sword once struck him from behind?
For he still stands.
For the war is yet to end.
For I too am a warrior,
fighting on a battlefield
my life is one,
and my thoughts are my sword.
Yet at moments,
this very sword pierces my flesh,
this very blade
blocks my way.
But I am wounded, not dead.
I can be healed, if I try.
I can rise, if I give it all.
I can live, if I accept who I am.
Life is tough,
it is rough.
It hunts your vulnerabilities
pulls you from comfort,
damages what is already damaged.
It plants thoughts
that break you down,
that **** you quietly from within.
And yet, in those defining moments,
it is will that lifts you back up.
It is the same sword that struck my back,
the same blade I call thought,
that I now learn to hold…
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