War in My Veins

Yo—

Every morning I wake up in a war zone, body on fire,

Like my nerves got wires crossed and the volts get higher.

This ain’t fatigue—this is rage in my bloodstream, liar

If you say “but you look fine”—man, I’m sick of that choir.

I’m tired.

Not sleepy—soul tired, deep tired,

Flesh on strike like my bones all retired.

Tryna climb stairs like I’m draggin’ ten tires,

Heart goin’ haywire, breath cut like barbed-wire.

And the guilt hits harder than the pain does—

Feelin’ like a burden when I cancel what I promised.

Tryna stand tall when my legs straight foldin’,

Tellin’ people “I’m fine” but inside I’m implodin’.

You don’t know the nights I pace floors, fight wars,

Head poundin’ like somebody’s tryna break doors.

Body shuts down—mind screams “Take more!”

But I’m runnin’ outta strength like a cracked, drained core.

This is a war in my veins, and I fight through the strain,

And I rage through the days when my body’s in chains.

Yeah, I’m sick of the sickness that’s twistin’ my frame—

But I’ll die on my feet before I live in that pain.

Yo, I’ve been sick so long that the sickness got sick of me,

Drained every bit of me, wrecked my stability—

Still I swing fists at the misery viciously,

Drown in the agony, rise unpredictably.

Doctors shrug shoulders—“We don’t know, maybe this, maybe that.”

Meanwhile I’m blackin’ out, crashin’ flat.

Heart rate spasin’, lungs collapse—

But I keep comin’ back like a maniac.

Yeah, I hate this—

Hate bein’ trapped in a system that breaks me.

Hate that I look lazy when the pain straight cages me.

Hate that I cancel plans ‘cause my body betrays me,

Hate that I feel guilty for the hardships it gave me.

Ever scream into a pillow so the kids don’t hear you cry?

Ever grip a sink tryin’ not to fall before you die?

Ever shake so hard you pray to God “just let it pass by”?

Ever choke on your breath while your chest tightens tight?

That’s my life.

Every day, every night.

This is a war in my veins, but I rise through the pain,

Even when I feel broken, defeated, ashamed.

Yeah, my body keeps losin’, but I still stake my claim—

You can take my strength, but you won’t take my flame.

Some days I break.

Some days I rage.

Some days I fall on the bathroom floor tryin’ to breathe through the quake.

But every time I shake,

I get up anyway—

‘Cause I got people who need me,

And I refuse to fade away.

So yeah—I’m sick.

But don’t twist it—I’m still dangerous.

Still the same spirit, still a fist, still flame in this.

If pain wants beef, then I came for this.

I ain’t quittin’ till the grave lays claim to this.

Yeah, the illness hits—

But I hit back harder.

Sharper.

Smarter.

A broken body don’t cancel out a heart that’s a brawler.

So when the shaking starts, and the world gets darker—

I bite down, stand tall, fight on like a martyr.

‘Cause this sickness ain’t my story—

It’s just one brutal chapter.

And I’m still the author.