Her voice began as whispers to the people's soul,
And quickly grew to a crescendo of battle cry for the fighting spirits.
She raised her hands and say "We are not the ones who are weak today",
With thunder-like roar stood the soldiers of today.

Spears came down like rain to the battlefield,
With only shields on their arms as their salvation.
War horses came charging in the front line,
Breaking down all means of defense from the front.

Those spears are not spears,
But words that society has poured upon them,
Those horses are horses,
But judgmental peers pressured their very existence.

While she is just one person,
Just a little voice in the midst of the dying world,
"Live life as if it was your last" She chanted,
Was enough as an inspiration to keep on going,


-HIY

The guise of a false hope warily cloaks
an unkempt soul bereft of fortitude -
stolid in the belligerent face of unnamed evil,
an aura of past opulence adulterates naive purity,
the stigma augmented by an insidious breach

of internal asylum. The vulnerability of
a soldier against oneself takes precedence
in the chasmal crusade yet to come; omniscient
intimation gives way to dour prophecies,
ambidextrous in their intricate verbosity.

Molten in the inferno of cross-interrogation,
pliable in the hands of a mortared veteran,
reiteration serves only as a gibe, a grievance
only the most foolish jester would make
before a corroding monarch. The demons

have rallied for annihilation; the starling
warbles an aria of capitulation, its notes
reverberating through the tentative sunset,
a sky of gray and orange mingling with the song
to convey an unequivocal defeat. But after every

dusk comes a period of resurrection, and from the haze
emerges a heroine unrecognizable if not for eyes
ablaze with scarred determination. She strides
with the strength of ten thousand legions, a leviathan's
courage uncovered in her still-beating heart.

The devil flees, uncomfortable in the blinding presence
of mortal accompanied by heavenly body. This -
this is redemption for armor lost, the answer
to her yearning prayers that had been barely audible over the
convulsing sobs that had swallowed her for so long.

Finally vanquished of the toxic beast that had claimed her,
she rises victorious, proclaiming amidst glory a single word -
“Checkmate.”

What was once a grand home
became a place of sin, and despair,
where people feel gloomy and alone
where is unity? where is care?

A place I used to adore.
A place considered precious
became a battleground of gore
where the selfish and cruel were victorious.

Poor souls fled.
Hearts were heavy with sorrow,
hearts bled.
For they believe there's no tomorrow.

War, so unmusical a word
is others' favourite melody.
The sound of peace they couldn't afford.
That's why the war record is worn out already.

What should've been a mansion
of love, peace and understanding
became a wild forest, a dungeon
where no one can do anything.

The wails of our fellowmen,
the cries of the dead,
shook our once strong walls of cement.
Our beautiful home became their deathbed.

Two spiteful lovers in a raging battle
Fighting against the tides of war
Lost within themselves and images
Of the serenity from the ways of before
Not knowing how to come down from the high
Never needing much, just a little bit more
In love with the idea of opposites attract
Until it leaves them both lying on the floor

~~My Dads Battle Is My Battle Supporting Him Until He Wins~~

Scrolling through old pictures,
I come across the photos
That show a timeline of my descent into madness

As mental illness ravaged every single part of me
Stole my personality
My laugh
My smile
The very essence of my being.

Most will say
"It was just a phase"
But that torment
That mental and physical pain
Wanting to disappear
The horror of looking into the mirror and not recognizing yourself
Not knowing what was going on
And not being sure you could stop it.

When your worst enemy lies within you,
How can you attack it, without hurting yourself?
Perhaps that is why mental illness is so tough to overcome.
You can't just snap out of it.

I shed tears for how sick I was
How inconsolable
How dark days turned into darker nights
Where nothing mattered
Nothing had purpose
I was less valuable than the air I breathed.

But I'm grateful for those that stuck by me
That believed in me
That picked me up when I fell down
For I didn't disappear into the abyss

I was propped back up on my own two feet
Prepared for battle
Prepared to change
Prepared to do whatever it took to survive.

Fought through university
Fought to make new friends
To NOT be defined by my invisible illness

I soldiered on.
Now I'm up against the hardest part of the battle.
Accepting myself for who I am.

And I will continue to fight.
For surrendering is abandoning the very essence of my being
My soul will not bear a white flag.

She stares at her reflection.
Recognizes her distorted perception.

Evil whispers fill her head
Self criticism is the only part that wants to be fed.

She's made huge leaps, fought her way,
And continues fighting for recovery to stay.

I was frozen for ages
afraid to reach for the sun
Battling myself with myself
and neither side has won

I am she who battles demons
I am she who prays for snakes
I am she with many fears
I am she who never breaks

I am sharper than obsidian
I am stronger than steel
No longer will my head hang low
because of how I feel