Twenty winters pt-3

My family dreams in colors wide, Of glory, name, a son with pride. But I am made of quieter things — Of simple hopes, not golden rings. I’ve failed so much, I’ve burned through plans, I’m tired of playing Superman. I just want peace — a place to breathe, To stop pretending, to finally leave. Let me live, not just survive, Let me fall, but still arrive. No need for praise or loud applause, Just a quiet life with honest cause. To cook my meals, to build my day, To speak my truth and walk away. If I could write a letter back To that small boy who faced the lack, I’d say — “You’re more than what they see, And someday you will just be free.” Not perfect, no — not even healed — But stronger for the scars concealed. You’ll find your light, beyond their mold — And it won’t be loud, but it will be gold.