I raised a black flag high with pride,
A banner bold I could not hide.
It screamed of strength, of “I won’t fall,”
Of standing firm, of having it all.
It waved through storms I would not flee,
A symbol carved with “only me.”
I bore it like a soldier’s crown
But oh, how silently I drowned.
Each triumph inked in darkest thread,
Each vow I kept while dreams bled red.
I thought this flag would make me whole,
But bit by bit, it cost my soul.
Then came a moment, still and bare,
No crowd to please, no need to dare.
I dropped my fists. My knees grew weak.
And for the first time, I let peace speak.
A white flag trembled in my hand
So soft, so plain, I couldn’t stand
To think this could be strength at all…
But it was strength to stop the fall.
I raised it slow, unsure, ashamed
Expecting loss, expecting blame
But as it rose, I saw it shift
This white was black, the truest gift.
Not stained in rage or empty gain,
But marked with mercy, healed by pain.
It bore no name, it screamed no “I”
Yet in its silence, I could fly.
And then I knew—how blind I’d been,
The black I held was never kin.
It led me through a thousand fights
But never taught me wrong from right.
This white flag wasn’t giving in
It was the start of truth within.
And every thread once dyed in shame
Now stitched a soul that chose to change.
So here I stand, no flags held high,
Just open hands beneath the sky.
Not conquered no, but born anew,
Freed from chains I once thought true.
That white I feared to lift in shame
Became a fierce and quiet flame.
The black I chased a mere disguise,
This white revealed my truest rise.
Its threads now stained with all I’ve braved,
A banner raised, not lost but saved.
This is the black I now embrace
Born pure, reborn through time and grace.
