56
I have carried fifty-six pains in my chest,
each one a quiet storm with no witness.
Fifty-six nights I wrestled my own thoughts,
learning how heavy silence can be.
The world saw a smile stitched in place,
but inside, earthquakes wrote my name.
I have walked through fifty-six struggles,
roads with no signs and no mercy.
Empty pockets, crowded doubts,
dreams shaking but not breaking.
Fifty-six times I questioned my strength,
and fifty-six times I stood anyway.
There were fifty-six hardships that shaped me,
like fire shapes untested steel.
Cold mornings with warm tears,
closed doors that bruised my knuckles.
I learned to build hope from scraps,
and courage from borrowed breath.
I have tasted fifty-six failures,
bitter as truth, sharp as regret.
They humbled my pride, not my spirit,
bent my knees but not my will.
Each fall pressed wisdom into my bones,
each loss carved patience in my heart.
And still—there are fifty-six wins,
fifty-six victories no one applauded.
Fifty-six successes, quiet but real,
proof that survival is its own triumph.
After all that tried to end me,
I remain—unbroken, unfinished, undefeated.
H