From the Gutters to Grace
I came from the cracked earth,
where sirens sang lullabies
and gunshots kept rhythm
like a mother’s heart—
fast, then gone.
We ate what we stole,
slept where we fell,
and called rusted chain-link fences
the edge of the world.
The old man left,
the old lady broke,
and love was a rumor
we didn’t believe in.
I bled young.
Learned young.
Fists before forgiveness,
pain before prayer.
But I built.
One scar at a time,
I stacked mistakes like bricks,
cut my teeth on truth,
and spit out the lies.
Didn’t ask to be saved—
just wanted a shot to stand.
Not clean, not perfect—
just honest.
Now I walk with a limp,
but it’s mine.
I speak with weight,
’cause I carried hell on my back
and still came out
looking like a man.
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