I was born with a scar between my nose and my smile,
A mark of fate that stayed all the while.
They cut it, they stitched it, not once but six,
Each surgery is a story, each pain a fix.
That scar was fire, burning deep in my soul,
Fear tried to chain me, but I chose my goal.
“How to face the world?”—a voice would say,
But my parents’ love lit up my way.
They stood like pillars, strong and tall,
When I would stumble, they’d break my fall.
Their words were medicine, soft and true,
“Stand strong, my child, the world waits for you.”
In school, I walked, but walked alone,
No friends to call, no comfort zone.
I was an island, quiet and shy,
An introvert soul, beneath the sky.
I spoke through my books, my voice was my pen,
My dreams were storms, and I sailed through them then.
They said, “What will he become? His future’s a blur.”
But I turned their doubts into my strength.
Four people, four words, four ways to tear,
Yet none could touch the heart I wear.
I worked with fire, I worked with grace,
Now I stand tall in the teacher’s place.
An English trainer, a voice to inspire,
I fuel young hearts with passion’s fire.
A brother of love, a guide with care,
Now, all respect me—everywhere.
My scar once spoke of pain and fear,
Now it’s my medal, proud and clear.
I’m not ashamed of who I am,
I’m a phoenix, rising from life’s exam.
So when they ask, “Who are you now?”
I smile and say, “I showed them how.”
For I was broken, yet I rose anew,
The scar that burned became my view.
. . .
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