If you’d asked me five years back
where I’d see myself—
it wasn’t here.
But I couldn’t be happier,
leaving behind those who’d tucked me on a shelf.

They couldn’t stand the light I held,
the love I gave,
blinded by their own regrets
and the dreams they never saved.

They weren’t there when cancer came,
or when depression stole my ground—
they fed it, dressed it up with superficial things,
laughs so empty, so hollow-bound.

Those were never my people.
Real strength and power rise
from what life throws,
from where truth lies.

I might not own a house
my parents paid for,
I might not be ‘money-rich,’
but I’m richer than before.

Don’t get me wrong—I’ve been small,
I’ve had my petty days.
But now I remember who I was before them,
and who I am today.

The powerful,
the loving,
the caring,
the strength,
the light—
how did I let them make me forget?