A Thousand Cuts

Like ancient rivers carved in stone, These marks tell tales of storms now flown, Of battles fought when night was long, Of learning, slowly, to belong. These faded paths upon my skin Speak not of where I've fallen, but where I've been— Each one a chapter, not an end, A reminder of my power to mend. They whisper now of distant days, Of how we grow in countless ways, These badges of a warrior's heart Who chose to stay, to make a new start.