​The war within is a quiet one, No smoke, no fire, no setting sun. No clashing steel or battle cry, Just the heavy weight of a "low" or "why." ​It’s a struggle fought in the dead of night, Between the shadows and the light. A voice that whispers you aren’t enough, When the road you’re walking gets jagged and rough. ​The walls are thin, but the cage is real, Forged in the things you cannot feel. You smile for the world, a hollow disguise, While a storm brews deep behind your eyes. ​It’s the pull of the past, the "could have been," The ghosts of the places you've already seen. But even in silence, the heart finds its beat, Refusing to bow, refusing retreat. ​For the bravest soldiers aren’t those on the field, But the ones who refuse to let their spirits yield. Who wake every morning and face the day’s tide, Winning the war that is raging inside.