It’s always there when you never want it to be.
Lingering in the shadows. Laying in wait of the tall grass.
When it strikes, it strikes fast. Deep.
Finding itself reaching into your every pore.
It’s not a sore.
It’s not an injury.
It’s a gift from the darkness.
Stretching itself wide until it consumes you.
Blinding the light from your skin.
Hiding itself in everything you know. Everything you love.
Covered in a bleak territory.
One worse than any war.
This is a war with yourself.
A war without rules. Without strategy. Without a winning side.
It’s a loser’s game.
Are you ready to play?