I watched you fade, tubes and wires in your veins, your screams cut through me, nothing left the same. Six surgeries, a coma—you fought through the pain, and I stayed awake, holding the strain. Cold benches for a bed, fear choking my breath, fast food for survival, praying life over death. I felt the world pull back, shadows closing in, but I stayed in the fire, refusing to give in. I’m not who I was—trauma carved me new, your fight broke me open, but I still pulled through. Flashbacks hit like fists, but I rise again every time I hit the ground. I saw you suffer—I felt it in my bones, lost myself to the echoes, the screams, the moans. You survived the battle, but I crawled out hollow, trying to rebuild what was hard to follow. Sleepless nights—I prayed for your life, hours on my knees, fighting the knife of strife. Ventilator breaths replayed in my mind. I binged to cope, I fell into the wrong, lost in shadows too long. The world assumed, but they didn’t stay, and I learned to survive in my own way. Blood on the sheets, alarms in the night, your war became mine—I carried your fight. You came out living, but something in me died. I won’t stay broken, I won’t stay weak. I rise with the weight—steel, sweat, and truth, turning CPTSD into living proof. I survived the night—now I’m taking back my life. Every scar, every tear, every failed goodbye—fueling the fire that won’t let me die. I saw you suffer—I carry the sound, but now I’m stronger every time I hit the ground. You made it through—but I was left empty, and now I rebuild every broken piece of me. Through the pain, I rise, I fight again, turning trauma into power with the will to ascend. You survived the war—now I survive me. This is what remains and what I choose to be.
