Beneath the weight of unspoken rules, 
I walk a path where the world is cruel. 
A thousand faces, yet none truly see,
The battles fought within the shell of me. 

The air is thick with whispers sharp,
A symphony of judgment, cold and dark. 
Each step I take, the ground feels thin,
A fragile hope, a fight to begin.

Society, a mirror cracked and skewed,
Reflecting greed where love once stood.  
Its hands are heavy, its heart is stone,
A kingdom built on thrones alone.

They preach of unity, yet divide,
A selfish hunger they cannot hide.
Their smiles are masks, their words are chains,
A world that thrives on others' pains.

But in the shadows, I find my flame,
A quiet strength they cannot tame.
For every tear, a seed is sown,
A garden of resilience, my own.

I am the echo they try to mute,
The voice of truth they cannot refute.
Though cruel the world, and sharp its sting,
I’ll rise again, and let my spirit sing.

For struggle is not the end, you see,
It’s the forge that shapes the soul in me.
And though the road is steep and long,
I’ll carve my place, where I belong.

So let the world be cold, be vain,  
I’ll dance despite its bitter rain.  
For in the struggle, I’ve come to know,  
The fiercest fires make diamonds glow.

.    .    .