THE FIGHT

I drew my sword for someone blind

To all the wounds I left behind.

I stood in storms they never knew,

While they just watched the skies turn blue.

I called it love, I called it grace,

But they just smiled and kept their place.

No hand to hold, no shield to lend

Just silence from a selfish friend.

Now wisdom whispers soft but clear:

"Not every soul is worth your spear.

Some battles bloom from noble fire

But some just burn and never inspire."

So if you fight, make sure it's true

That they would also fight for you.

For love that's real will bleed and bend,

But selfish hearts don't comprehend.