No one told us, in the straightforward language of streets and desires

No one told us, in the straightforward language of streets and desires, That life would keep pushing us forward, like an unrelenting wind, Even when we're too tired or too defeated to get out of bed, That sometimes the days could be so heavy that the air becomes a burden. No one taught us to hide tears under a mask of indifference, To laugh with sarcasm, even when the soul is torn apart, To step forward on roads paved with compromises and unfulfilled desires, An inner city where every corner is an explosion of passion and regret. We grew up with stories that ended well, like dreams too sweet, Where everyone smiled and rested under a crepe paper sky, But life doesn't wait, it continues to unfold, cruel and splendid, Leaving us to learn how to go on, even when the heart is a battlefield. Perhaps that is true strength, not glory and applause, But finding a way to move forward, quietly, like a poet among words, Even when no one sees, when only silence listens, A poem of the heart that refuses to stop, a verse written on the walls of an inner fortress. And maybe that's enough, to keep moving, Step by step, with a heart that refuses to yield, To find beauty in every breath, even when it hurts, A magical, melancholic poem, written by our steps on the vast canvas of destiny.