I stand in the mirror, searching my face,
for signs of change, for bits I’ve replaced.
I’ve fought to grow, to mend and refine,
to leave behind what was never mine.
Each day I rise, steady and slow,
trying to be someone I want you to know.
I’ve come so far, I can see it clear—
the battles won, the silenced fears.
I’m proud of the scars that no one can see,
proof of the strength that’s blooming in me.
But still, there’s doubt, sharp and cruel,
whispering rules I didn’t choose.
Am I enough? Am I changing too late?
Will love slip through at the hand of fate?
I try, oh I try, with every breath,
to give you a love that defies death.
But what if my steps aren’t swift or right,
what if I lose you in this fight?
I ache for more than just “almost there,”
I want to be someone who shows they care,
without the weight of fear or mistake,
without wondering what love might take.
But even as doubt grips my chest,
I know I’m doing my very best.
So I hold onto this truth I’ve found—
growth isn’t perfect, nor always profound.
It’s quiet steps, a trembling climb,
becoming better, one piece at a time.
And if love is real, as I believe it to be,
you’ll see the best still rising in me.
I may not be finished, but I stand here strong,
with a heart that’s learning where it belongs.
And I promise, with all that I am and will do,
I’ll keep getting better—for me and for you.
