A new poem, very dark and grim but with hope.

It begins, pain racing outward a white hot sheet of sensation.

I struggle with the daily trial by combat my mind must wage.

The shock cascades through my form overwhelming my senses.

I begin to buckle under the ambush, silently I fight on, and I must.

Awash in this climax of agony, motion and awareness my enemy.

My stomach churns as I see the world behind a storm of fireflies.

The hurt threatens to drown me, with no hope of blissful release.

As the wave passes through my legs, leaving them cold and numb.

Only the throbbing ache remains as I recover to wage war again.

I worry sometimes that I will fall, what if some day I cannot go on?

I hope I am never weak enough to give in, to stop fighting as I do.

Most never see my distress nor would understand why I endure.

I will allow no one will take this from me or treat me as a cripple.

I will not bitch and moan as everyone has a personal pain to bear.

I AM a man, I will battle with this for my duration or until I break.

I only pity those who will give in to the pressure and not move on.

But I will always pay this price gladly, for the single step of a stair.