I stumbled hard, I fell so deep,
through endless nights that swallowed sleep.
Each misstep etched its mark in me,
yet shaped the spine you now can see.
What you call luck, what you call fate,
was simply choosing not to break
to rise through bruises, torn and worn,
through every loss I had to mourn.
I bled my lessons, paid the cost,
counted every battle lost;
each failure sharpened who I am,
each scar a proof I still could stand.
So do not name me blessed or lucky,
my fire was born from days unlucky.
I wasn’t spared—I was remade,
by every choice, each price I paid.
I am the sum of all my scars,
of shattered dreams and stubborn stars.
and if I shine, remember this,
I learned my light in the abyss.