My scars are not my shame, but my strength.
My scars are not my shame, but my strength.
Your whispers are my war cries.
My struggles? They’re the clay I used to sculpt my soul.
If you dare to speak of my falls,
Be prepared to hear of my rise.
For in the rubble of my past,
I built a fortress of resilience.
Invite me to your table of judgment,
And I’ll serve you a feast of triumph.
