Choice

I found my strength
I chose to fight
I said no more
I am not a victim
My life is in my hands
I draw strength from pain
I am damaged goods
Like a wounded dove
I could not fly
The wings not only broken
But ripped out
By my tortured soul
The wings grew back
They’re beautiful and strong
I can spread my wings
I can again fly
But one nightmare
A frightening memory
Like a bullet
Shoots me back down
I again must heal
I fight a losing battle
But I still choose to fight

© Pamela N. Brown