In shadows deep where silence weeps,
We walk alone through nights so steep.
With blistered feet and dreams once bright,
We chase the edge of distant light.

The world, a storm of stone and flame,
Will test your will and curse your name.
Yet in the pain, the soul is born—
From every wound, a strength is sworn.

Beneath the weight of grief and time,
Where hope feels like a steepest climb,
You’ll find a fire beneath your skin,
That dares the dark and burns within.

Each scar you bear is not in vain—
They speak of battles, loss, and gain.
Of sleepless nights and weary cries,
Of rising still when spirit dies.

You’ll meet the faces of deceit,
And taste betrayal, cold and sweet.
But let your heart not turn to stone,
For kindness is a seed well sown.

In broken dreams and shattered glass,
You’ll learn that every storm must pass.
And even in the deepest pain,
There lies a song, a sacred flame.

The journey's not for faint of heart,
But every end births a new start.
You are the poem, the pen, the page—
The silent thunder, quiet rage.

You’ll climb the hill with blood and tears,
And greet the sun beyond your fears.
For though this life may bruise and bend,
The soul survives—refused to end.

So wear your past like armor worn,
Through all the trials you have borne.
And walk with pride through fire and strife,
For struggle is the art of life.