Thoughts of the Brave

Shattered - I stare at my palm with regret.

Broken - Though, I never seem to want to forget.

Battered - The memory so clear

Spoken - With great detail it appears.

Though the memory sears my sanity with its hot, branding iron,

I bear the pain bravely, like a roaring lion;

And as my resolve stands strong against its fiery torture

I always think of myself as a hero's daughter.

For I struggle everyday to rescue myself,

From the looming thoughts of suicide.