When the road gets rough and the nights get cold,
When the weight's too heavy and the fear takes hold,
Stand your ground- don't run, don't hide.
There's fire in your heart and steel in your stride.

Bruised and battered, bent but proud,
Still you rise, still you're loud.
Let the doubters talk, let the storms all rage,
You're more than a chapter- you're writing the page.

So tighten your fists and lift your chin,
The battle isn't over - you're built to win.

We were nothing.
But you knew it could've been something.

You felt it.
You just weren't brave enough to hold it.

I wasn't asking for a future.
Just for you to show up in the present.

But every time I got close,
you pulled back.

You said things that sounded like want,
but acted like maybe.

I gave you softness.
You gave me silence.

And now you want to talk.
Now that I've swallowed the ache,
now that I've stopped reaching.

But where were you
when I was trying to believe this could be real?

Still stuck in the past.
Still chasing what broke you.

If you'd shown up-
really shown up-
we could've built something.

But now you'll never know.

Because I'm done waiting
for someone who only knows hot arrive
once the door's already closed.

I used to sit with lips sewn tight,
A quiet storm, a dying light.
You called me soft, a passing breeze-
Now watch me bring you to your knees.

I counted cracks inside my head,
While you forgot the words I said.
I broke in silence, nice and sweet-
But now I'm fire wrapped in heat.

I overthought, rewrote the script,
I let your name burn on my lips.
You made me a ghost, but gave her claws,
And now she's coming just because

Everything built by fear
will fall by its own hand.

History forgets.
Power lies.
Walls rot.
Names change.

And still -
there is a current under the noise.
A pulse in the dust.
A thousand invisible hands
holding up the sky.

We are not promised survival.
But we are proof it is possible.

I'm always the lesson,
never the praise.
Told to be better
in quiet ways.

The words aren't cruel,
but they still land rough-
measured and weighed,
never enough.

It's in the looks
the way they compare,
like I'm just less
for even being there.

I carry the blame
for things I don't do,
swallow the doubt
until it feels true.

They don't see the cracks,
the ones they made-
all for the sake
of keeping one name safe.

I shouldn't have to earn
what should be mine-
a place, a voice,
a moment in time.

But I keep the peace,
stay small, stay still,
hoping they'll notice
I'm breaking at will.

I once met a fish who forgot
what it was like to swim.
So it stayed in the river,
waiting for the waves to come to it.

The trees told me,
"Stop looking for a way out."
But I didn't hear them-
I was too busy listening
to the wind ask me why I was still standing still.

One day, I realized
the ocean had always been inside me,
but I was too busy looking at the shore.

The rain falls soft,
but it's not the kind that drowns.
It's the kind that whispers,
"you'll figure it out somehow."

I've stumbled,
I've stood tall.
I've learned that falling
isn't failing after all.

Not everything fits,
and not every piece is mine,
but I'm starting to see
how the puzzle looks in time.

I'll burn,
I'll heal,
I'll keep what I can.
Life isn't perfect,
but it's all part of the plan.