Strife cuts like a knife into my life,
I bare its scars with great
pride and prejudice.

I suffer much, yet stronger
I grow, as I bare testimony
to my woes, I fight to
live my life through all
of my strife.

I walk like all the rest,
leaping when I’m told,
running when its time,
digging holes where there once
was dirt and suffering,
I leave, baring my face to shadow and monster.

My strife claws at my life,
screams at me for attention,
though none I give until I choose.

Once in my life it was not so,
nothing was of my choices,
time was my friend,
Over mountain and hills
I found who I was meant to be
and who I am.

I, I am strife and struggle,
I, I am pain and suffering,
I, I am stronger and taller,
I, I am boundless and fruitful.

At my borders there
I’ve bared witness
to my own suffering.

I’ve become nothing but
dirt and mortar held together
by my foundation, built
by strife and my struggle.  


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