Here I am again fighting this battle once again.
Standing on the field, I fight the twin armies of migraine and dysautonomia,
And for once, I am losing ground.
I am battle weary, tired, and distraught
Every time, I beat the enemy back, it seems to fight back more
Tired, weary beyond words, I will settle for a short retreat and a rest.
I know I will not win today.
Suddenly, I am felled by the enemy, I lie on the field weary, but grateful for rest.
I lay down my arms for a minute and give into the diseases, losing myself for a time in the fray.
I crawl to a refuge that stands beneath a cross
And there I rest, and know that I may have lost this day, but with the help of that great, conquering Cross, I shall not lose the war.
I lay down my sword for a while, enter the church, strip off my armor, and all emotion and pain comes out then- emotions I cannot speak to the world, pain that would scare others, come as tears poured out at the foot of the cross, and there I will find strength to fight on, but now I shall rest awhile.