Now And Then
When my body is sculpted to perfection,
When my beauty gleams without a flaw,
You may whisper that I’m artificial—
But I am not. I am the raw,
Unyielding truth of perseverance,
The echo of battles I’ve won alone.
You question me with narrowed eyes,
Raise suspicions like storm clouds overhead.
You never saw the fire beneath my skin,
The silent strength in every thread
Of muscle forged through pain and grit—
You never asked what made me whole.
You judged my books, my songs, my soul,
With a heart colder than winter’s breath.
But I will rise through ash and ember,
Shine brighter than the stars of death.
I am not your fleeting fancy—
I am the storm, the calm, the flame.
And when I stand in triumph’s light,
Know this: I remember every slight.
I remember how you turned away
When I was broken, night and day.
So if you don’t love me now,
You don’t deserve me then.
I am worth the struggle,
The climb, the scars, the bend.
And when I soar, untouched by doubt,
It’s not my loss—it’s yours,
Without a doubt.
Copyright ©
Michael Fulkerson
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