There’s a damp wetness that hangs inside
like some putrid pit you cannot shake.
It consumes and expands within you
always seeking to find new areas
ones that are filtered with love or confidence,
special and precious to defining who you are.
As the viscosity of the pit expands
you become enveloped in a melancholy,
a great creeping sadness that obliterates joy.
Dreams become suffocated,
ambitions become fantasies not to be attained,
emotions roll dead and to the beat of failure,
the internal monologue becomes a tirade,
life itself becomes a chore,
and one that is hardly worth the effort.
Enveloped in that wet darkness,
it takes great strength to continue on,
Each soldier who walks that path,
fights a monster inside and well beyond
anything that you can touch or taste,
Merry be the wounded ones who chose to fight,
their battle is so often invisible,
that others aren’t aware of the war being fought,
It is though,
one screaming resistance and determined action at a time,
they battle against something never asked for,