Forged to end the madness

Born to heal.

Born to remember.

This is my purpose.

I came in carrying echoes

older than my name,

ancestral weight in my marrow,

fire braided with pain.

I didn’t break when it found me,

didn’t numb, didn’t run.

Every scar became a signal,

every wound said become.

They called it suffering.

I called it training.

I walked through bloodlines and silence,

through stories that weren’t mine to keep.

What tried to erase me

taught me how to see.

Born to heal.

Born to remember.

This is my purpose.

Forged in the dark,

I carry the ember.

What they buried survived the flame—

I rose remembering my name.

Born to heal.

Born to remember.

This is my purpose.

I felt the grief of generations

pressing down on my chest.

Learned endurance before mercy,

learned how to breathe through the mess.

They told me to forget my power,

to make myself small to belong.

But my body held the truth in place

and my spirit stayed strong.

I wasn’t lost—

I was encoded.

I wasn’t weak—

I was loaded with light.

Born to heal.

Born to remember.

This is my purpose.

Forged in the dark,

I carry the ember.

What they buried survived the flame—

I rose remembering my name.

Born to heal.

Born to remember.

This is my purpose.

I begged the author once

to tear the pages out,

to rip the trauma from the spine,

to give me rest.

Now I know—

the book never owned me.

I rewrote myself

in breath, in truth, in choice.

I didn’t inherit the curse.

I ended it.

I am not here by accident.

I am not unfinished.

Forged to end the madness.

Forged through fire and memory.

I remember why I’m standing—

I remember why I’m here.

Forged to end the madness.

Not hardened—refined.

Not broken—forged.

This ends with me.

Born to heal.

Born to remember.

Forged to end the madness.