[Verse 1] I learned early how to carry weight without showing strain, Smile stitched steady while the ceiling leaked the rain. I talk calm, but my chest keeps a running tally, Every “be grateful” carved another notch in my spine, exactly. I was taught to be useful, quiet, easy to move, Trim the truth till it fits what the room can approve. So I folded my wants into neat little lines, Became fluent in patience, bilingual in time. I don’t ask for a crown, don’t beg to be seen, I just want room to breathe without earning the means. Every step’s a negotiation with pressure and pride, I hold the whole storm but don’t let it decide. [Chorus] I’m not broken, I’m burdened and still standing straight, Built a spine out of moments I couldn’t escape. If I sound tired, it’s cause I’ve been carrying truth In a world that prefers it diluted and smooth. I don’t burn for applause, I don’t bow to the noise, I’m alive, I’m aware, I still get a choice. [Verse 2] Been rationing rest while I wrestle the weather in my headspace, Ledger of pressure, I measure my steps by escape routes and dead days. Mentally metronomed, everything tethered to tempo and timing, I’m writing in fragments, these frantic mechanics are finally aligning. Calendar cannibal cadence, I cancel the comfort I’m owed, Carry the cost of composure, the quota of “keep it controlled.” I’m stitching intention through inches of impulse and instinct, Blink and I’m back in the black with my balance intact and distinct. Paper-thin patience, I pace with a purpose, no pause for the panic, Plans interlocking like clockwork, my thoughts are mechanical, manic. Every decision’s a chess move compressed into seconds and stress, I don’t react, I redirect, reassemble the mess. Velocity verbal, I spiral through syllables, splitting the beat, Consonants cutting like corners, I’m hugging the edge of the street. Deadlines drip down my spine, but I’m stepping in sync with the slide, I don’t drown in the current, I pivot, I ride. I been running on run-ons, no commas to catch my breath, Sentence fragments snapping like tendons, elastic with depth. I sharpen my sound till it’s surgical, certain, and spare, Every vowel accounted, no echo, no excess air. Still moving, Cognitive cardio, marathon mind in a sprint, I don’t crumble, I calibrate pressure and print. They quantify worth with a number, a graph, or a glance, I’m building a backbone from balance, endurance, and chance. [Chorus] I’m not broken, I’m burdened and still standing straight, Built a spine out of moments I couldn’t escape. If I sound tired, it’s cause I’ve been carrying truth In a world that prefers it diluted and smooth. I don’t burn for applause, I don’t bow to the noise, I’m alive, I’m aware, I still get a choice. [Bridge] If I slow down, it’s not weakness, it’s aim, I don’t need permission to speak my own name. I’ve survived every version that tried to erase What I am, what I meant, what I carry in place. [Outro] So let the weight talk, let the years leave a mark, I’m not asking for light, I learned to live in the darkened parts. This is me, unpolished, present, and true, Still here. Still breathing. Still choosing to move.
