I Am My Own

You are not made of mirrors,

Nor echoes that fade with the crowd—

Your worth is not a whisper,

It does not shrink or shout aloud.

Not in the praise that lifts you,

Nor in the silence that forgets,

Your value isn't borrowed,

It isn’t weighed by one regret.

You are the breath behind the name,

The stillness when the world moves fast,

The ember glowing in the flame,

The roots that hold when storms have passed.

You don’t have to earn your place—

You are enough in still and strife,

A quiet force, a steady grace,

A soul that sings its own true life.

So, stand without apology,

Don’t bend to fit what others see—

Self-worth grows when we believe:

I am my own, and I am free.

Raised with Love

No need for thunder in my voice, 
No iron grip, no fearsome stare—
I choose a gentler, kinder choice, 
To meet your tears with patient care.

I will not rule with clenched command,

Nor strike the soil where trust might grow;

Instead, I’ll guide your little hand,

And walk beside you, soft and slow.

You are not clay to break or bend,

Not storm to tame, nor fire to quell—

You are becoming, my small friend,

And I am here to help you well.

When anger flares or sadness calls,

I’ll kneel and listen, not control—

For in the cracks of tantrum-ed walls,

I see the shape of your whole soul.

I will not shame your tender cries,

Or mock the dreams you try to build—

Your worth does not in silence lie,

But in a voice that feels fulfilled.

So grow, my child, in sun and shade,

In laughter loud and questions deep—

This love, though gentle, will not fade,

Its roots are in promises we keep.

Ready to Burst

I carry silence like a stone,

A weight that’s grown beneath my skin,

Where voices echo, all my own,

And battles rage but stay within.

My chest, a dam of unshed cries,

Of rage and longing tightly sealed,

Each heartbeat pounds like warning signs,

Of truths I’ve never dared revealed.

My lips know well the art of calm,

But tremble with the things unsaid—

A scream dressed up in quiet psalms,

A wildfire cloaked in words I’ve bled.

Tears wait like thunder in my throat,

Too proud to fall, too fierce to drown,

Yet storms don’t ask, they only float—

And strike when no one’s looking down.

How long can one soul cage a flood?

How long can sparks remain inert?

I feel the rupture in my blood—

These pent-up truths are ready to burst.

So if I break, or if I burn,

Don’t call it madness or disgrace—

Even the stars must twist and turn

Before they shine and split through space.