The Hard Won Battle

In the darkest hours lay troubled thoughts,

Anxious worries of the deepest root,

Doubt creeps along the edges of consciousness,

Self esteem forever in dispute.

**

Demons ride the crest of the midnight hour,

Stampeding a riot of twisted screams,

Hooning the waves of despair with their snide cruelty,

Smashing the resemblance of future dreams.

**

Shadows hide behind the moon’s friendly glow,

Ready to pounce on a dime or a whim,

This darkness no friend of the tormented,

With the constant struggle of sink or swim.

**

Heartbeats race at the flash of incite,

Agony grimaces upon a naive face,

Begging for the dawn and the sun’s friendly beams,

Destroyed by the night’s acidic taste.

**

Exhausted and downtrodden after hours at war,

Attempting to wander the daylight hours,

Where once excitement lived in hopes and wishes,

A bad taste in a mouth that quietly sours.

**

But the battle is not over,

The race is still to be won,

Where there’s life, there is opportunity,

And many a different possible outcome.

**

Take the heat that hovers within the darkness,

Temper it to regain that long forgotten strength,

Wield the pain and torment into submission,

Keeping it at an intimate arm’s length.

**

While there is breath, there is always hope,

A rising path of divergence,

A soul that’ll wander; totally unbidden,

And with the new dawn, a brilliant resurgence.

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Originally published on Medium