As I walk through the carnage, ankles locked by hands, acting as shackles, reaching from broken hearts, sorrow spilling from pain’s root. I realize I will never grow deaf to those internal cries, so my journey to that emotional utopia seems like a meaningless pursuit.

Each step is the wrong direction, I’m lost within the realm of imperfection. Strayed away from my shadow, no longer defined by my reflection, I need love to dive in my complexion.

But yet, as I yearn for its warmth, I venture these vast lands for answers, stumble across holes created by confusion. Blood trickles from my hands with no cuts, wondering why? The misconception is not the illusion.

Maybe I just don’t deserve to walk off this field alive. For my wounds are too deep to heal, so bandages remain soaked with my depression, looking up wondering how will I survive?

But with my eyes to the sky and the clouds eclipsing light, the time is drawing near for me to find my way. Realizing the path is still hidden, the truth is still forbidden, but the possibility of overcoming the battle of love is keeping my heart from dismay.

Reality is the ruler of purpose for why mankind is blessed with imagination. And before I step foot on this battlefield for all eternity, allow my heart to complete its transformation.

For without the pure love of another, the death of my soul would be in vain. And my life will be remembered as another casualty among many, lying with rotting bones, emotionally slain.

Now I stop to soak in the air that would suffocate those who are weak. Look around for survivors, as my hope fades dim, continuing my journey for what I seek.

For freedom to whisper in my ear, for my armor to disappear and the path to felicity to be clearly shown. But if I should die before I walk that path, my footsteps shall precede me and fulfill the definition of “Love’s Soldier” engraved deeply on my tombstone.