I won't rise soft, I rise in blaze,
With untamed scars and war-born grace.
No crown was gifted, none was spared—
I took my seat, because I dared.
They wrote me off? I etched my name.
On time, on fate, on every flame.
I stitched my wounds with diamond thread—
What broke me once now bows instead.
I don't chase love—I set the terms.
No empty hands. No half-grown worms.
He comes correct or not at all—
My worth's no echo, plea, or call.
I'll build from ash, I'll walk through steel.
Make thunder kneel. Make silence feel.
This life's not owed—it's mine to bend.
And when I speak? The script will end.
So tell the stars: I don't just glow.
I crack the sky. I make fate grow.
And if you doubt? Then come and see—
The storm you feared… was always me.
✍🏽By: - WIN VENTURA
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem