I* wasn't born in a hospital like most children are. I
am made of soft thoughts, but too of hard muscular rivets; steel bars are
not nearly so malleable as my arms. So far, so good, no need to be
afraid, no need to be alone. There's no need to cry in the dark, wishing for
home and a soft bed and warmth and food for my soul. My soul thrives; it
is the howl of the wind on the mountain top; My soul lives in hardship.
Where others tremble, I will not walk alone, because My soul lives in pain
The pretenders; the snakes; the cowards do not sway. Because My soul is
Hard Like my muscles, like my heart, like the place where I was born. It
is... funny actually. I wasn't born in a hospital; I was born on the way.
I
Was
Born
Moving
Forward. and I refuse to move back. Because **I am not afraid.
It's been a rough week.
