I am strong.

Not because of the roots

put down for me by others,

but because of the roots

I put down for myself.

I am strong.

Not because of my father,

or his father before him,

or any of the men of my family,

but because of my grandmother,

and mother, and all those women in my family,

who taught me that tough love

is not a love without rough edges,

but is a love that knows no bounds

and yet still can tether you to this earth.

 

I am strong.

Not because of my emotions,

but because I have battled

and scarred

and burned

and bled

and come out victorious without losing them.

Because I am the only one

who knows what makes me bend

and break

and cry.

I am storng.

Not because of my religion.

Or the religion of my family.

But because of my boundless mind,

that tells me all is possible.

Even if it seems impossible.

 

I am strong.

For I am real.

I am raw.

I breathe.

I bleed.

I fight.

I speak my mind and talk the talk

that my father said you must

walk the walk to.

I am strong.

Because I fail.

I fuck up.

I do things wrong.

I scream.

I push myself to the breaking point

and then piece myself back together.

I am strong,

because where I flaw at the edges

I still am a mosaic of perfect mistakes.

 

I am strong.

Because I love a girl

who deserves better than me.

And I know it,

but she still loves me all the same.

Because

we as humans

fail.

I am strong,

because I am imperfect.

I am strong,

because I live to see another day.

I am strong,

because this heart beats on.