Writing on- War Cry.
<p><strong>I’m not sure which is worse — the crushing weight of the truth or the clenched fists of hate.</strong></p>
<p>I have stopped looking for solace. I have to claim the shadows and the light as my own. The hate, that ugly monster, became fuel for change, not defeat. The truth is a bitter pill, but swallowing it whole gives me strength. Sisterhood, not a debt repaid, but a circle of fire, each woman a spark making the whole thing blaze.</p>
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