In the darkest hours,
Depression transpires.
Dread overpowers,
The silence grows louder,
My mood turns sour.
I used to feel empowered,
When did I become a coward?
In my darkest hours,
I do not desire,
To be defined as inspired,
When I wish to expire.
I seek my God given power,
Resilience in encounters,
That once made me a fighter.
Be bold.
Becca’s Meningioma 2 Journey 
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