an old friend would tell me that even on my darkest days,
the look in my eyes showed that i still had even at least a small bit of fight left in me.
he would always tell me that but i never believed him,
for when i looked into the mirror,
dark, glossy eyes looked back at me,
eyes that were filled with no hope left,
no fight left.
until now.
i see it.
i see the fight he's talking about.
i see it when i force myself to get up in the morning,
i see it when i speak up and
i see it when i write.