It’s only when I break, that my insides spill out and I see what I’m made of.
It’s only when I stop holding my breath, that I exhale the poison within.
It’s only when I fall that I find cracks in my foundation,
And only when I weep do I hear my true voice.
Our metaphoric armor protects but equally destroys all that we know and all that we are.
It weighs heavy on our souls and injures and crushes, rots and corrupts. Armor was not made to be worn at length, but when the battle evolves into a war, we feel we have no choice.
INGRID E FABER 