The Harshest Battle

Beneath the surface, quiet storms reside,
A chaos brewing where no one can hide.
Not from the world, but from the self within,
The war begins, where no one can win.

A whispered doubt becomes a roaring flame,
A voice that calls you by your own name.
It knows your fears, your weaknesses, your scars,
Turning your dreams into shattered stars.

The hands that hold the blade are your own,
Carving through hope until all is unknown.
Each step you take is a step off the edge,
Balancing life on a crumbling ledge.

No foe is fiercer, no wound cuts as deep,
Than the silent destruction you let yourself keep.
A shadow that grows as you feed it despair,
A battle that wages when no one is there.

Yet within this ruin, a spark can ignite,
A glimmer of courage, a whisper of fight.
For the hardest war is not to destroy,
But to reclaim the fragments, to rebuild joy.

Self-destruction is fierce, but so is the will,
To rise from the ashes, to be standing still.
Though the fight is long, though it takes its toll,
Victory lies in reclaiming your soul.