I wear the colors of the lives I've seen, The brightest days, the spaces in between. Every hello, every last goodbye, Left a mark beneath my skin and in my mind. Some became my courage, Some became my fear. Some still whisper softly, Though they're no longer here. I am the echoes of the voices I've known, The lessons I kept and the wounds I've outgrown. A thousand hands helped shape what I became, But I still get to write my name. I'm more than every road I've walked before, More than every closed or open door. The past may light the path I walk each day, But I still choose my way, anyway. I've borrowed dreams and carried others' pain, Held on to sunshine, danced with pouring rain. Some truths I learned were never really mine, So I let them go and left them far behind. If every soul's a thread woven into me, Then love is in the fabric that you see. But every dawn still places in my hand Another page that's waiting to be planned. I am the echoes of the voices I've known, The lessons I kept and the wounds I've outgrown. A thousand hands helped shape what I became, But I still get to write my name. With every heartbeat, every choice I make, I'm not just who I was—I'm who I create. Their stories helped me find my flame, But I still get to write my name. So here's another sunrise, another chance to see, The only one who writes the next page... is me.
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