so, we're a bit broken, a bit bloody, a bit bruised.
but it's good. we're trying.
we are a battlefield / and war is not pretty.
war is blood, it's death, it's pain. but war ends.
and while our skin may be riddled with scars and wrapped in bandages, and while they may not be beautiful but bruised, they tell the story. of how you fought, you stumbled, you tripped, you fell, and even more importantly, how you got back up. with a fierce look in your eyes, where you think that sliver of hope is an illusion just out of reach, but fierce nonetheless. you have survived, you have survived, you have survived. so, your scars tell a story, one of tragedy, one of hurt, one of heart, but each have this savage hope intertwined. it may not seem like it's there, it may seem faint, but it's pulsing.
— so we're a bit broken, a bit bloody, a bit bruised, but we're trying