Somewhere along the way,
I became someone
I didn’t recognize.
Not because I changed.
Because I survived.
The old me
wouldn’t understand
the strength it took
to become this version.
But I do.
I see her.
And I am proud
she stayed.
A poetry library for the things that bruise us, the things that bloom anyway, and everything we become in between.
Somewhere along the way,
I became someone
I didn’t recognize.
Not because I changed.
Because I survived.
The old me
wouldn’t understand
the strength it took
to become this version.
But I do.
I see her.
And I am proud
she stayed.
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