Armed into battle, I need a weapon that’ll protect me.
All the beasts and demons on the quest require something to prevent me from dying during the war.
A sword is the first thing that comes to mind.
Not one made from ice, steel or wood.
A sword of love.
Fuck it, make the shield and armour from love too.
Because that’s what’ll tame all these self-debilitating monsters.
Times that involves heartbreak and emotional pain that I want to put the sword on myself.
But the sword is made of love this time.
So even when I want to take it on myself, it’s healing me.
It results as self-love because it’s needed more than anything during any turmoil when I am required to stand up to battle these fuckers head on.
It’s me vs. me.
The ego in me screams “FUCK YOU!”, and I love too bud.
It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be incredible.
The sword of love is here to stay.