What is it to be strong?
Is it to remain standing, while the world around you falls?
Or is it to catch the falling world, and lift it above yourself
Knowing the weight will one day crush you

My mother is a warrior
Standing on a battle field
Surrounded by the carcasses of dead and broken dreams.
Dreams that she herself brought to their end, by the quickness of her own blade
And lost beneath the ****** hands and battle cries
Hides the broken child, who believed there would be more.
I don’t know why she does it
Fight the way she does
I’d like to believe it’s out of love for me
But I don’t think so.
I think it’s because she doesn’t know what else to do
She’s too strong to fall
Or too scared.