The Storm I Carry

There are battles no one sees, Carved into the walls of my mind, Winds that twist my thoughts Into shapes I never meant to hold.

Some days, I feel like a tree, Struck too many times by life, Yet still standing tall, Roots trembling but unbroken.

I have walked through seasons That tried to silence me, Fog thick enough to swallow hope, Pain loud enough to drown prayer.

But even in the darkest hours, Something inside refuses to fall— A stubborn breath, a quiet fire, A whisper that says endure.

I am the storm And the survivor of it. I am the broken branches And the rising dawn.

Look closely now, This is not a man fading into mist. This is a soul fighting Its way back into the light.

Conclusion: If you are holding onto a "stubborn breath" today, know that you are not alone. The storm does not define you—your survival does.

Poetry by Diadem | Visuals by Olaobaju Babatunde Joseph