They say you only know who your friends are in the midst of conflict,
the hand that holds your elbow when you struggle, the word whispered in your
ear when you come near to giving up.
But what do you do when you’ve already won; who do you trust?
What is it that inspires you to this “serge to fight?”
Are these shadows you box against?
You say you’ve gotten used to the smell of dirt, having fallen
so often, exhaustion dragging you down, and still you rise, torn and bleeding
to resume the struggle – instinct telling, you’re not done yet, even though you
keep telling yourself to give up, you never will.
It is not in your nature to surrender without a fight, even
when the odds seem overwhelming and the whole world dead set against you.
The world refuses to understand you, though a few doe, those
true friends you’ve hand picked who pick you up with you call, and treat your
wounds, and feed you words of encouragement, telling you again and again, you’re
quest is right
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