To be proud of my story, is all that I ask,
And yet it appears, an improbable task,
There’s skills and intelligence, I can attest,
But is that enough, to start thumping my chest.
To be proud of my story, but where to begin,
When all my emotions are bathed in chagrin,
My intellect challenges negative weeds,
But deep in my soul, is the child who still bleeds.
To be proud of my story, I want to embrace,
This journey of life and the riches I chase,
Not power, nor fame, nor material wealth,
But courage, respect and a true sense of self.
To be proud of my story, I have to commit,
No time for excuses, nor reasons to quit,
I won’t become victim to those who protest,
It’s me versus me, in this challenging quest.
To be proud of my story, it’s progress before,
Perfection, which used to thwart every score,
Before I replenish my once empty cup,
The first thing required, is just showing up.
To be proud of my story, I need to be free,
From reapers and creepers that terrify me,
I run from the dog so it cannot latch hold,
And tear my behind a new wound to behold.
To be proud of my story, my actions must speak,
Instead of the words that are tossed in a heap,
Be honest, be fearless, be balanced, be strong,
And always work hard for the place you belong.
To be proud of my story, it starts with a choice,
To strive and not settle for less than rejoice,
It’s forward momentum that keeps me alive,
I’m done with survival, my heart wants to thrive.
To be proud of my story, it’s stroke, pedal, stride,
That leads to an Ironman bursting with pride,
Then moves to employment and further beyond,
A life that was troubled and frequently wronged.
To be proud of my story, I have to make peace,
With every chapter that crawled in the crease,
It’s time to shed fear and create a new start,
To be proud of my story, my hand on my heart.
© The Complicated Bunny – 26 Nov 2020