I am a ship adrift on grim, turbulent waters, where each sound is thunder, each shadow a ghost. Memories are lightning, flashing bright and searing, leaving me blind and trembling.

I am a fractured mirror, reflecting pieces of a past I can’t escape. Each shard is sharp, cutting into my present, drawing blood from old wounds. Familiar places, faces, scents—they are the sirens of my mind, luring me back to places I don’t want to return.

A new dawn has emerged,

but the scars remain,

tortured echoes of my past, reduced to nothing,

carved by the trials I have sustained.

This is for the warrior hearts who may be more fragile in physical form, but whose spirits are robust. Sometimes despite the pain, sometimes because of it. For anyone dealing with an ongoing, chronic illness, but are determined for it not to define the quality of their life.