My love is a two-edged weapon, wielded by insecurity and strikes with fear.
Akin to Pandora’s pithos, it remained concealed; destruction would only come of openly sharing it to the outside world.
My heart is shielded, once scarred by mistrust, now a lone vessel playing a broken melody looped:
Just as soldiers march through wet trenches in perfect harmony - a requiem orchestrated by hardship and woes.
The key to freedom was self-love, but it lost the battle. Fought valiantly, but self-loathing holds it in shackles.
The victory bred the evolution of widespread forlornness. Once a warrior, now a prisoner of an internal war.