Battlefield

 

We played by different rules. 

I grew up in a battlefield, my home

Was a war. 

I broke myself against it. Crashing again and again, losing limbs and pieces of me,

I never got back. 

I could never be 

What they wanted me to be

Because I had looked in the eyes of death, 

And navigated hell 

All Before the ripe age of 18. 

The opposition would remain just as fierce 

As egos fought to stay alive, while my soul merely sought to survive. 

They would condemn me, 

And I was forced ever again to take up the fight. 

We never lived by the same rules. 

You were tucked to sleep at night, 

While I wailed until I cried myself into exhaustion. 

Sometimes a potato was all we had for dinner, 

While drives sent home a box at Christmas, 

So we could maybe have a turkey 

And some presents under a tree my mother could not afford. 

When I started to love myself...

That is when the whole world would rage against me, 

And they made a ghost 

Of my shell. 

It was allies and family, that waged the war. 

It was half truths and truths unsought, they used as their battle weapons. 

Love...

Was never a weapon they thought to use...

But to me it was all I knew. 

It was love that allowed me to love still. 

And it is love that leads the opposition.