The Fight

I reach and fall, try to find the way back up but there is nothing to grip, nothing at all. I cry out from the center of my being, wanting release, rid of suffering.  So bleak has hope become, it has taken me captive. I claw and scrape...to be rid of this fate. This battle is not over, but over it I will come. I will be one made stronger by the scares left behind, I will not give in nor will I hide. And from the weakest of points my strength will come, cause no I will not forget where I have come from.