I stitched my scars into sentences, Turned every loss into learned expenses Pain is a poet with perfect tenses, Teaching me strength through broken fences. I carried nights like heavy pockets of sky, Counting stars I couldn’t reach, asking why Every shadow whispered what I tried to deny, Every crack of me became a place to fly. I traced the echoes of my own heartbeat, Found rhythm in ruin, made fragments complete Even silence spoke in a language discreet, And in brokenness, I discovered my seat. So if the world forgets my name someday, Let the rhyme remember what I couldn’t say That even broken voices find a way To turn their echoes into wordplay.