I’ve tripped over choices I never meant to make,
Held hands with storms I should’ve walked past,
Let shadows talk me into shrinking,
And trusted hearts that were never built to last.
I’ve fallen face-first into the wreckage,
Lost parts of myself I thought were gone for good,
Stared in the mirror at a stranger
Who kept asking if I’d ever be understood.
But life has a way of whispering, get up,
Even when the world swears you’re done,
And somehow the cracks in my past became windows
Where a little light still found a way to run.
My comeback wasn’t loud or perfect—
It started with one quiet breath, one small choice,
Then another, and another,
Until my broken pieces found their voice.
Now I rise from the places that once buried me,
Wearing my mistakes like medals on my chest—
Proof that I’ve walked through hell already,
And still came back doing my best.
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