No One Declared this War

Note from Dr. Ming:

This poem came from one of those moments where insight knocks the wind out of you. The realization that defense mechanisms once meant to protect have become automatic weapons, turning every misread tone into a perceived attack. It’s not cruelty—it’s armor. But armor gets heavy. And the possibility of laying it down, even for a second, is its own kind of bravery. This is the sound of someone beginning to consider peace.

No One Declared This War

by Dr. Ming

I do not strike to hurt.

I strike to survive.

The moment the tone shifts—

or maybe doesn’t—

I flinch.

The wound opens.

The strategy begins.

I find the chink in your armor

before you find mine.

I twist the words,

throw the first stone of silence,

smirk with a blade tucked behind my tongue.

I don’t want to win.

I want to be safe.

And somehow,

those two things got confused

a long, long time ago.

So I sharpen my voice,

my stare,

my instincts.

Even when the danger isn’t real.

Even when it’s love

sitting across from me.

No one declared this war.

But I’ve been fighting it

for decades.

And now?

I’m just starting to wonder

what peace might even feel like.