Passionate frustration

One day I changed, I was stronger than before,

I had accepted the hand dealt, no longer would I ignore.

I was encouraged, I was pushed, supported in my ambition,

I was a part of the force, I was a welcome addition... (cont)

What remains shared and equal, the desire to improve,

but the words, the actions, the will, is often misconstrued

So many understand what seems to be a fixation,

there's a brightly burning desire, a passionate translation

My peers, they live the same life that I know,

so similar in our thoughts, our actions and our woe.

One day I see those words, another life has been taken,

a feeling grows inside me, not passion but frustration.

As I think of those lost, my thoughts turn to fear,

becoming inwardly selfish, I hide to shed a tear.

That desire within flickers, threatening surrender,

but the bravado returns, perhaps a desperate defender.

I think to myself, what more can be done,

to protect my peers, a family losing a loved one.

I write out loud, words catching my eye,

I reach for support, once vowed to be at my side.

My words are written clearly, but interpreted not as I see,

the passion, the reality, the sadness within me.

It comes from exhausted living, the years with this condition,

it comes from trying to tell you, whilst continuing on this mission.

You see why I feel stormy, why I sometimes can’t back down,

you see why I come out fighting, staying afloat so as not to drown.

I’m scared of the fight that’s in me, but I have faith in my dedication,

what I need is that vowed support at my side, to soften my passionate frustration.