Courage is not a man

with a gun in his hand.

You have to fight. You have to see it through.

You don’t often win, but, sometimes you do.

“The pen is mightier than the sword”

the ink spills out my anger, word for word.

Catharsis for the soul, for a moment I’m whole

Then the triggers come back, they

Attack! Attack! Attack!

I pull my body in tight, thoughts in my head fight;

What should I do? What is good? What is right?

How can I be heard, from this empty universe, my tiny little voice?

A squeak up to the heavens, my body drowning in the void.

Why didn’t I report: fear, retribution, shame, trauma, disbelief

Why I did report: anger, justice, hope, change, PTSD

For all I lay bare my scars, my shame, my secrets.

I do it to be better, to help, to be a part of this female testament.

I am on display, but I am Courage, with nowhere to hide

You are Cowardice, a shrewd and disgusting vision, covered in lies.