I've written an entire novel inside my head then sit at the keyboard as the words go unsaid.

The struggle is real. I struggle forward still.
 
I've woken up sweating in the middle of the night in the grip of some uncomprehending fright. 

The struggle is real. I struggle forward still.

I watched my mother die of loneliness every day until cancer took what was left away. 

The struggle is real. I struggle forward still. 

I trusted those I thought my true brothers betray me and give their allegiance to others. 

The struggle is real. I struggle forward still. 

We fight in the streets every single day and the flashing lights take our dead bodies away.

The struggle is real. I struggle forward still. 

I tell you I love you and close my eyes and pray we'll wake up for another sunrise.

The struggle is real. I struggle forward still.