I place myself where daylight stays,
where quiet strength outshines the haze.
I guard my heart, I clear my ground,
no borrowed noise, no needless sound.
The world may tug, may beg, may bend,
but I answer only what I am.
I tend my dreams with patient hands,
I stitch my wounds with wiser plans.
I dance with dawn, I weather rain,
I turn my scars to sacred gain.
No guilt for space my spirit claims,
for love I shape, for chosen flames.
This year is mine—my breath, my tone,
my steady rise, my standing stone.
I bend, not break; I learn, I grow,
I trust the path I choose to go.
My soul grows brave, my heart runs free,
I live this life deliberately.
With purpose sharp and vision true,
I walk aligned with all I knew.
I am my promise, kept in sight
this life, this self, this earned light.
I keep my visions under skin,
where silent labors first begin.
No borrowed gaze, no whispered sign,
Each careful motion wholly mine.
I plant my days in unseen ground,
where roots grow deep without a sound.
No bloom betrays the work below,
no trace of how the dark must grow.
The world will wait—unaware, unwise.
until the hush learns how to rise,
until the quiet breaks in flame
and speaks its long-remembered name.
What slept in shadow, shaped with care,
emerges sharpened by the air
a truth so earned, so clean, so clear,
it leaves no room for doubt or fear.
Until that hour, my lips are closed,
my strength conserved, my patience poised.
By sweat, by faith, by steady art,
the secret blooms and leaves its mark.
Introvert.
A monochromatic soul
With a colorful heart.
Beauty does not rest in eyes or skin,
nor in the mirror’s fleeting grin.
It wakes where unseen mercies start,
in patient hands, in a generous heart.
It moves in moments soft and small
a hand that lifts before we fall,
a steady voice that meets our fear,
a listening soul that chooses near.
It lives in pauses, calm and kind,
in grace that asks for none to shine,
in love that gives without a claim
and leaves no need to sign its name.
True beauty never begs or cries,
it glows in how you live your life.
It follows where your goodness flows,
and blooms in ways the whole world knows.
Strength is not the hunger to prevail,
nor salting wounds so others fail.
It is a voice that softens space,
that meets your fear and leaves you grace.
Small hearts climb by pushing down,
borrowing height from another’s crown.
But rooted souls don’t race or prove—
they build the path so all may move.
True power travels light and slow,
no need for banners, flags, or show.
It turns the night a shade more kind,
by seeing pain we try to hide.
It knows the cost of quiet tears,
the weight we carry year to year,
and breaks the chains not through command,
but by an open, steady hand.
