I walk the path at slower pace,
With fewer tools, yet endless grace.
The river bends—it doesn’t lose,
Its different path is not excuse.

They may run fast, I bloom slow too,
But what I am is strong and true.

You can't clean muddy water still
By rinsing just the bottle's will.
You must uncap, and let it flow,
Through filters where the healing grows.

So I won't fake a perfect part—
I’ll cleanse with love, and keep my heart.
For every flaw I rise above,
Is shaped and softened by self-love.