There is always a worst form struggle.
No matter, how great, is our own.
It's not that the worst is one permanent.
It's in a moment, when a worse is fully grown.

It's found, in the eb and flow of our solitude.
If our worst, reigns, supreme.
Solitary in room or in thought,
Do we ascend, to that horrific being.

Honor those horror filled instances,
With memories, never to be lost.
And in our hearts, forever lend grace,
When our turn, it currently, is not.