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.