The Warrior Denigration

You call her Warrior to hide your truth. You call her strong to mask your weakness. Distract yourself from your inadequacies because she knows your truth. She loved your Truth in its perfection.

Distinct and pure, all or nothing.

She chose all.

She has not a UPC code. She has no name.

Theft of Life a worse fate than Death.

You will not get close to see the scars. Unlined face mendacious to the trauma beneath. You will not see her grief. You will not carry her taste.

You will not know her heart.

She gave her heart to save.

Her heart, One’s lifeblood. She gave to love.

The greatest organ donor, she refused thanks. Only your happiness for exchange. Your look a cherished side effect. Her favorite place was easy. Treasured. Distinct in the essence of her thought-shield.

She donated her heart. Her Chosen One must survive. So without a heart, your truth would keep her alive.

And it was good.

She fought. Battled for the good despite Ones slaike. She fought pure, later alone, leaving nothing unscathed. When one has her heart One is cherished and enveloped, especially when vulnerable. Especially before false dirt and lying mirrors.

Especially on the ledge.

She believed.

The Warrior fought. The heart protected. The soul loved.

Her wounds will never be dressed. Her scars remain unkissed.

Broken pieces One will never pick up. Left to fade alone from memory quick as an exhale. She withstands to the excuse of lazy abstraction.

Only when you look into her eyes will you see the nothing inside. One took Life away.

There is no One.

Brand her the Warrior for your excuse. Alone is not a destination.

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