You want the truth?

You suggest it's worth living?
The recurring memories reliving,
the horrors,
the afflictions recorded by the scorers.
Tossing and turning,
that sensory of burning?
The darkness reforming,
but when I look at you it's like it's transforming.
A burst of light, 
telling me its alright.
But its light that is atrocious,
to see the deprivation within.
That's like a battle between the sun
and the moon, dancing until there's an eclipse.
No one wins,
so that's our end?
You suggested it is worth living!
Those recurring memories should not ever be reliving,
that you will be there when there are horrors.
That there will be no more afflictions recorded by the scorers.
You would be there while I'm tossing and turning,
taking away the sensory of burning.
With the darkness,
you transformed it.
In this bloodshed,
we are both victors.
In these bloodshed battles we fight,
together like day and night.

This poem is about: 
My family

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