The hopeless fight.

You fight a war
you never asked for.
Not because you want to.
Not because you’re worth saving
in your own eyes.
You fight for them.
They say it’s because they love you.
Because they care.
But they don’t know
how surrender can feel softer—
how the sting fades,
how the ache quiets,
how relief whispers your name.
Stil
You fight.
You force your hands to unclench.
You swallow every scream.
You survive another day
even when surviving
hurts more than giving up.
So you fight.
Again.
And again.