My shields fading sanctuary

The pain of the past paves its path into the present.

I used to try and hide behind a shield that I would wield called pride.
It's saved me from experiencing excruciating pain countless times in life.
But now it's starting to show all its wear and lose its once gleaming shine.
I used to view its ability to protect me as a strength to have in this fight.

But when I put it down to my side and face mother nature's blade I realized,
I move freely and avoid her strikes in more effective ways without its weight restricting my stride.

So, you don't die in fear living with the anticipation of what might just appear,
Sometimes it's easier to set everything aside and run towards the sharp edge blind.
So, you no longer even look into a mirror day or night, or even looking towards the light .

That's like dying by a million tiny cuts, wondering if this will be last one, or will there still be many more to come?
Still, I think I've got a few pieces of my protective set I've not even tried to take off yet, so pain's stained every breath.

It's Ironic I thought all my protections coverage could help deflect an incoming impact, from being fully sustained head on.
If I just rolled with the hits I've learned it hurts a whole lot less to just roll with them vs attempting to fight against, and resist them from ever happening again.
Will some form or piece always remain? or will they eventually be worn away? The build up, means things are bound to break.

When it just covers up the scars with scuffs, so that my exterior can at least appear intact.
And It's sadly laughable it just makes me even more susceptible to exactly that.
I'm a lone dark knight in crumpled up armor, trying to wage war for his kingdom's former, because in the end we all want to be fought for.

Now anytime I swing this blunt sword against an intended target, I end up being hurt far more than them.
But still for some reason even knowing what might end up happening, I just do the same fucking thing again.

I'm just a little bit insane I guess, something I used to suppress.
Because who knew trauma was something you could stomach and digest, if you just work with instead of fighting against.
So, it's no wonder new lands are never explored since the enemy ahead is never conquered, nor even thought of something to even fighting against.

Is it a lack of mental will power, is there just fumes remaining in the tank? Am I really drained, or do I just feed into the decay? Will the darkness ever be full? or will it feed off eternity eternally?
Instead of finding a helping hand to repair my worn-down protections
and continually sharpen my weapon while working on repairing my breaking down defenses.
I watch it all fall apart thinking its repair wouldn't change the winds current direction.

But If I don't sharpen my edge someone might think I'm not ready to even deflect,
I'll end up covered in the blood bathed by the dreams I've witnessed be put to death.

And if people see me as weak, that's when Bandits see the weaknesses in your security,
no matter how well you think you've locked up your key's, doors and locks rust and break.

I try to keep forging forward, At this point only towards another dead end,
lost all senses of belief in ever finding the missing directions.
Now my taste only seems bitter at the end. No matter how sweet of a treat I digest.

I hope I don't pass this down to the next, cause it's as if their precious heirloom,
it can be seen as a valuable/valueless gems embedded into my DNA's strands,
deep into the armor I'm wearing and even the broken object I hold in my hands.

I pretend I don't see, but I've been holding all 3 eyes open for what seems like an eternity.
So many seek release, some end up on the streets.
Others pouring their heart and soul into the streets for all of society to see.

So, it's going to keep on happening unless I break these inherently learned curse like trends
That'd been persisting in my family for the past few generations, spreading into the livings dreams.

Haunting them inside their entire being.
When your in a living nightmare you begin to forget me.
But few are trying to understand and even less and able to ever even see.
Being blind to the struggle helps you protect me unwillingly from your eyes ever looking down.

We all wield weapons and shields to protect others and ourselves.
Sometimes out of instinct like its beyond our ability to not try and help.
If only we could use that same strength to cover up, from the come ups come down.

Even without a cut that leads to the point of all our blood leaking out,
We all live to one day be where we were before this all began, somehow.
We start and end like a memory that fade as time ripples in and out.
No one escapes the echo of darkness's shadow's perpetual howl