This was emotionally very tough to write. The first line comes as a rough paraphase of part of a song, the rest is my emotions at the time poured out on paper.
They don't know that inside all this armour, the warrior is a child. But this child has no where to run save a cold dark corner. There she sits all curled up and cries herself to sleep. There she unbinds her wounds and cleans them, wincing at the pain, letting her tears mingle with the blood that's dripping down. Alone in her suffering, she's wishing it would all just go away. Then someone calls and she must go. Expertly she binds up her hurt. She hides it behind her bandages and covers those with armour. No one sees it. No one knows it. They call on her to help them. She fights for them, but no one aids her. They call on her to guide them. She sets them on the path, but she remains lost. They call out hunger. She feeds them while she starves. She cradles the hurt in her arms and wipes away their tears, but her injuries are devouring her inside and her eyes are burning with tears unshed. No one asks if she's alright. No one asks of she's ok because she's always so tightly held in that the pain can't be seen. As she fight the battle the others see her winning, but they are blind to all she's losing. Then when the day is done, she falls back into her corner, but the beating never really stop. The tears continue to flow with the blood and the warrior fades away.
They don't know that inside all this armour, the warrior is a child. But this child has no where to run save a cold dark corner. There she sits all curled up and cries herself to sleep. There she unbinds her wounds and cleans them, wincing at the pain, letting her tears mingle with the blood that's dripping down. Alone in her suffering, she's wishing it would all just go away. Then someone calls and she must go. Expertly she binds up her hurt. She hides it behind her bandages and covers those with armour. No one sees it. No one knows it. They call on her to help them. She fights for them, but no one aids her. They call on her to guide them. She sets them on the path, but she remains lost. They call out hunger. She feeds them while she starves. She cradles the hurt in her arms and wipes away their tears, but her injuries are devouring her inside and her eyes are burning with tears unshed. No one asks if she's alright. No one asks of she's ok because she's always so tightly held in that the pain can't be seen. As she fight the battle the others see her winning, but they are blind to all she's losing. Then when the day is done, she falls back into her corner, but the beating never really stop. The tears continue to flow with the blood and the warrior fades away.
