No guiding hand, no tethered light,
just endless dark, just endless night.
Yet in the black, I carve my name,
I rise, reborn, unbowed, untamed.
The world loves illusions,
soft lies wrapped in silk,
but I was born with teeth,
and hunger for something real.
The night does not lie.
It does not dress itself in pleasantries,
does not whisper sweet nothings.
It only offers silence - sharp, unbroken, real.
What is pain but a hammer's blow?
A shaping force, though cruelly slow.
What is fear but a hollow call?
A shadow cast by standing tall.
I've danced with demons, loved the fire,
Watched my mind walk to the pyre.
And yet, my soul, it did not break-
For in its flames, new shapes I make.
Let others hide, let others flee,
I am the storm, unchained, set free.
For suffering holds a hidden gift,
The hands that crush, the hands that lift.
To know the dark is to master the light,
To bend the pain, to rise and fight.
A life unscarred is a story half-told,
For strength is born where the brave are bold.
So strike me down, and I will stand,
With fire-wrought heart and unshaking hand.
I'll thank the darkness, I'll curse no more,
For suffering forged what I came here for.