It’s not a war of who stands where,
But a dialogue of being chosen, laid bare.
A touch of jealousy, a bitter sting,
Yet it sharpens the edges of everything.

A bleeding pen, a restless mind,
A heart that aches for what it can’t find.
Endless opportunities slipping away,
A tide of love lost in the fray.

This love in my head, an unruly flame,
Burns deep in my chest, whispering your name.
It sinks to the bottom, where shadows meet,
In the deep heart seat, where pain finds its beat.

So let the competition spark and ignite,
For it fuels the journey, it sharpens the fight.
We all burn bright, in our own unique way,
Driving the soul through night and day.

by Petezce NIGHT OLW