War dance

There’s no fight quite as fierce as the one with yourself. When the weapons keep changing and no one ever wins, or looses, or leaves.. the struggle is constant and painful and there’s no giving up.

Sometimes you think you can freeze, pretend that you’re dead and keep still; pretend that if you hide for a while, maybe you’re free. Maybe you could breath. Oh, you could finally breath.. But the air stops in your throat as you choke back into that cursed war you’ve been fighting for ever. No, no. no! There’s no breathing for you, girl; there’s no peace.

So come out of your hiding place or I’ll drag you. Come out an do what has to be done, even if your every limb is held down by a thousand stones. Heave, and push and cry if you must, but keep dancing that war dance you know so well. Keep fighting that battle that may never end until the stones win and you’re dragged down, and buried and lost…

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