I am a war-torn nation;
I am battered, broken, destroyed,
and nearly decimated;
I have been drafted into this post-apocalyptic brawl
between who I am and who I could be
and have no other choice than to fight to the death.
These eyes have seen atrocities unlike any other;
these hands have dealt with shaking and pain
and the inability to create hope;
these teeth have ripped my lips to pieces
to prevent this voice from crying out
for the end to come.
I am a child soldier;
I am young, naivé, strong,
and surely able to overcome;
I am this way simply because of the
life I have been given,
and the crosses I have born.
These tears have gifted me with life;
this work has shown my ability to adapt,
and to shine;
The scars I bear tell the story of a warrior,
I am a poster child;
I am the paragon, the paradigm, the example,
and the cure;
I do not shrug the duty of spokeswoman
so that others may attempt to understand
me and others like me.
I am anxiety.