Some people are just born to fight,
I think.

...

It's not that they're born brave,
Nor that they're born strong.
But that the universe has decided that this one,
This being will have grit
And fire
And steel in their blood.

And it shall be tested,
This cosmic mettle of theirs.
They'll face trial after trial,
be broken and damaged in countless ways.

But this one was born to fight.
Maybe it's not the life they would have chosen,
For maybe they'd love to lay down their arms.

Yet they were born to fight
For the weak.
It's what they know.
It's what they do best.
It's all they can do.

This is the hill I will die on.
I choose to stand on the high ground,
And fight in the war.

I will be bloodied.
Bruised.
Broken.

But I will not run to the safety,
In the home at the bottom.
I will not cry for mercy,
As you raise your blade above my bowed head.

I will stay.
I will empty your lungs of hot air,
And shove you over the edge.
I will watch your body lie at the bottom,
Pointed at gruesome angles.

For in your one-sided battle to knock me down,
I have turned the tide.
This place that I have chosen to rest
Is no longer my grave,
But yours.

I hear both your words and the unspoken thoughts behind them.
I hear the whispers of judgment that fall between the cracks in the floor and are felt from the other end of the telephone.
While I don't need your acceptance, it's still hard to accept that, as your daughter, you still don't see me.
What you focus on is what I lack in your eyes, and all that needs to be "fixed."
I am so much more than my shortcomings, and I deserve love and respect, even as an imperfect being.
I realize that now.
Yet, after all these years, your judgment still stings, and my heart continues to ache with the pain it brings.
So, I love you from a distance, so that I can safeguard my heart, so that I can remain whole.
I refuse to dwell among those who seek to undermine me.
I have won too many wars to fight another battle with myself.

-Rhia Clay

A silent knight who rode through flames,
Fought the war he could not tame.
He knew the end before the start,
But duty burned within his heart.

He fought not for the songs or fame,
Nor dreamed of honor, nor sought a name.
He walked the path that fate had made—
A road of fire he could not evade.

His back is bent, his breath is weak,
No strength to rise, no words to speak.
Still on his knees, he won’t let go
His sword still burns with steady glow

With trembling hands, he plants it deep,
A spine of steel his soul will keep.
Though body crushed, he stands upright,
A shattered man, but still a knight.

You see defeat when you stare,
Yet did you sense the fear there?
He’s lost the war—but he feels none.
For in his fall… the fight was won.

The hill I will die on,
Is that most battlefields aren’t worth dying on.
Some people see a mob,
And grab their pitchforks and their torches,
Without even understanding,
What they’re fighting for.
Perhaps they love the bloodshed,
Perhaps they love the gore,
Perhaps they feel righteous indignation,
And are adamant to settle the score.
It could be some primal need to fight,
Or some could be sure that they’re right.
Either way, I don’t see the point,
I understand that sometimes a war is just,
Most times, it feels like a bust.
A waste of money,
A waste of time,
A waste of precious human lives.
All for what? Some measly land?
How greed corrupts the righteous hands.
So the hill I will die on,
Is that some battles aren’t worth fighting,
That they aren’t worth the pain.
The lives they ruin,
The families they break,
The friendships covered in contusions,
The human souls that are broken and bruised.
All for what?

Everything is fine
Then one Sunday afternoon
The dam between your teeth
Starts to crack
And all my flaws
come pouring from your mouth

Jerky tongue
crusted lips
daylight scorched and deep
ridge of the brow splits
cracks
brain leaks slow
sickly air
coarse skull
something rots in me
puke
i have to puke
i hate her
brown gold hair
i hate the speck of will
that veers from clot

"Why do you treat me right?
talking late in the night
staring in your pretty eyes
you're so pretty, that I might
might pull up a fight
the stars above shine oh so bright
yet, I only see you far in sight
why?"