Beyond the Playground or the Womb

It seems that I was born to bleed and sigh.
Still I will not give in to tragedy.
Existence has been hard, some battles lost,
but victory’s a dream that will not die.

Tomorrow, when the day is fresh and new
I’ll put my armor on with weary hands.
My skin is decorated with old scars
which I wear proudly like a warrior queen.

As a child I somehow had the will
to rise without a tear from off the floor.
I did not let the world see who I was,
and learned to live in shadows made of skin.

Now that I’m older I look back on me
And wonder how I made it through the mire,
That child was made of something more than steel
forged beyond the playground or the womb.