This poem came from a place I know too well.
Not a dramatic moment.
Not a breakdown.
Just the quiet, constant fight that never really stops.
The war within is always there.
It doesn’t leave.
It doesn’t switch off.
We just learn how to hide it.
We put on masks —
Say we’re fine,
Smile when we’re supposed to,
Carry on like everything inside us isn’t loud and chaotic.
But it is.
The battle
“There’s a battle that I fight every day”
I meant that.
This isn’t occasional.
It’s constant.
It builds slowly.
Sits in the background.
Waits.
And then it takes over.
No power, no say
That feeling of having no control —
That’s the core of it.
Your thoughts don’t feel like yours.
Your body reacts before you can stop it.
You feel like a passenger
In your own head.
Doubt as the general
“Doubt sits as the general”
Because it does.
It gives the orders:
What if…
Maybe…
Should I…
Could I…
And suddenly those small thoughts
Become loud voices.
They line up.
They take control.
The nervous system
“My nervous system fried to the bone”
That’s not just a line.
I’ve been told I have an overactive nervous system.
That I overanalyse everything.
That my OCD is something I’ll always live with.
They can label it.
Explain it.
Diagnose it.
But none of that stops it.
The loop
The thoughts still go round in circles.
Doubting myself.
Questioning everything.
Am I good enough?
Did I mess that up?
And sometimes it builds to the point where it’s just—
Fuck it all.
The battlefield
“The battlefield is a disaster”
Because it is.
There’s no clean fight here.
No clear winner.
Just damage.
Scars that don’t fade
Because they’re not on the outside.
Bleeding inwardly
“I bleed inwardly”
You can look fine.
Speak normally.
Even smile.
But inside —
It’s heavy.
Loss.
Decay.
Exhaustion.
No rest
“There’s no respite, no reprieve”
That’s the hardest part.
There’s no real break.
No full silence.
All you really want
Is a quiet mind.
A calm moment.
Just peace.
And still — tomorrow
“And tomorrow I’ll fight”
That’s the truth.
No matter what they call it,
No matter how much you understand it,
The war is still there.
But so are you.
You wake up.
You carry it.
You keep going.
Even when it’s loud.
Even when it’s too much.
You keep fighting
A battle no one else can see.
Thank you for reading
Your DislexicPoet 🖤