I wear the weight of my own making,
a hero in a story I keep rewriting.
Blood trails of broken wars within me—
memories whisper, ghosts remind me—
that I own my past, even when it tries to own me.
A mind once dictated by the company it kept,
where the devil’s eyes flashed like a quick glance,
but my higher power found me first,
led me toward the truth wrapped in unspoken details.
… am I ready to be the next success story?
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