I'm tempted to reach out when I'm weakbut i promise it's the comfort I won't seek but rather the enemy's heat.
I let the harsh blows hit.
The ones who send hot streaks down the side of my cheek.
He's blinding me as I let the darkness consume my mind.
When I try to fight back I end up on the floor. I can't seem to get up and show him I can fight because in my state of mind what's the point of a fight when he'll just come back the next day with all his might.
At this point do I even want my life...
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The enemy
PoetryThis is a poem of a time in my life where I was going through deep struggles of trying to find out who I really am