Yeah, I think of poems like a blade that can carve a little path through the gray. They’re a quick jab at the world, a way to say “I’m still here” without having to shout. It’s not exactly a battle cry, more like a whispered threat. And if you’re clever, you can make it feel like a punch that hurts a bit, but also leaves room for a laugh. That's how I fight back, if you can call it that.