We climb through days of broken stone,
hands raw from clutching all we own;
a weight unseen, a silent yoke,
and words that leave us choked and soaked.

Against the odds, we stand and fight,
in shadows thick as endless night,
our dreams like embers flickering low,
yet stoked by fires we barely know.

We wear our scars like secret steel,
a testament to wounds that heal;
for every fall, for every scar,
a piece of who we truly are.

In tangled paths, through storms that sing,
we feel the ache, the sharpened sting,
but somewhere in the howl and blur,
we find the strength to rise, endure.

So here we stand, though battered, worn,
from battles lost, from places torn—
a human heart, relentless, fierce,
with light enough to break and pierce.