A Mother's Battleground

Carved cheekbones rise below sunken eyes and pain. Leather skin pale enough for veins to run like lines on a map, lead to a swollen neck wounded by a scar like the Congo weaving into a descent. Worn out skin falls limp against bone, no trace of muscle left. A mouth full of teeth, just barely hanging on and exhausted from the fight. Strawberry blond hair sits lifeless and sinks down bony shoulders until the war is lost and all drifts to the ground, like constant reminders of the monster within. Tearing away at flesh with razor sharp hatred fueled by bloodthirst yearning, the monster takes residency. Despite all this, I still think you are beautiful. Cheekbones stand tall radiating bravery below the most determined, focused eyes. Shield tough skin with nothing to hide as veins lead to symbolic monuments; the scar pumping valiant blood that rushes down to the warrior heart within. Persevering skin clings to bone of steel, equipped to overcome. A smile full of tenacious soldiers still in formation and unwavering. Hair highlighted with war paint stands charged and cascades down resilient shoulders prepared for sacrifice and falls for its comrades, like martyrs weakening the monster within. Cowardly and alone acting out like a child enraged by desolation, the monster weeps.