Got to change my ways1

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Prompt / Lyrics

Stephanie hit the streets young, for real.
Barely outta childhood, she was already runnin’ with cocaine and heroin, chasin’ a high that never loved her back. Nights blurred into mornings, hotel to hotel, sellin’ her body just to keep the dope man paid and a roof over her head. She thought she had a husband, but he wasn’t no man—just a lowdown, selfish coward who used her up, hid behind her, and let her take the fall. He had a “business,” but it was all game and fraud, and when the heat came, he put the pen in her hand and the charges on her name. She ended up in prison while he walked free.
(Chorus)
Just want my life back I’ve lost my way and I pray for change tired of the pain it’s making me go insane addiction took me to a low I could have never imagined, if I ever get clarity long enough to see what I have become lord I promise I will never fall again, I’m reaching out simmering help

In the middle of all that chaos, there was Peyton. Tiny little girl with big eyes, lookin’ at her mama like she was the whole world. Stephanie loved that baby with everything she had, but she was drowning, tryin’ to feed a child when she couldn’t even feed her own soul. Guilt, shame, dope, and bad choices kept her chained up. Then one day, in a cold, lonely moment, she broke. She cried out to a God she wasn’t even sure was listenin’, and something shifted. She found a recovery program, found people who spoke her pain and didn’t judge her story. She started puttin’ in the work—one day at a time, one step at a time, one prayer at a time.
(Chorus)
Just want my life back I’ve lost my way and I pray for change tired of the pain it’s making me go insane addiction took me to a low I could have never imagined, if I ever get clarity long enough to see what I have become lord I promise I will never fall again, I’m reaching out simmering help

Now it’s been over three years clean. No needles, no powder, no tricks. Just truth. Stephanie wakes up sober, makes Peyton breakfast, packs her bag, kisses her forehead, and shows up like a real mom. She pays her bills the right way, holds her head high, and when she looks in the mirror, she sees a survivor, not a victim. The streets don’t own her anymore. That fake husband don’t own her story. God flipped her script. Stephanie went from broken and used to strong and chosen. And every time Peyton laughs, every time Stephanie tucks her in at night, it’s proof: you can come out the gutter, you can beat the dope, you can lose everything and still rise. Her past is real, but it’s not her label. Today, she’s a clean woman, a good mother, and a walking testimony that it’s never too late to start over.