Bleed to Build

Bleed,

if you must —

let the crimson truth drip

from wounds the world can’t see.

Not all pain screams.

Some just sits in silence,

waiting to be acknowledged.

Heal,

not once — but twice.

Once for the hurt,

once for the lesson.

Scars don’t mean you lost;

they mean you lived

through what tried to end you.

Manifest,

not just dreams,

but the strength to believe

you’re still worthy of light

even with water in your lungs

and anchors tied to your thoughts.

Heal again.

Because healing isn’t linear.

You’ll revisit wounds,

reopen them in your sleep,

but every time you choose to mend —

you defy what broke you.

Evolve.

Like fire from ashes,

like lotus from mud,

like steel forged in flame.

Let every struggle carve

a wiser version of you.

Adapt.

The tides don’t ask permission.

Neither should your will to survive.

Let your breath become defiance,

your silence become strategy,

your fear — fuel.

Build.

Not castles in the air,

but strongholds in your soul.

Build with broken bricks

and bloodied hands

a home within yourself

no storm can flood.

Even when you are drowning,

even when hope is a flicker,

even when gravity wins —

do not stop.

Bleed. Heal. Manifest.

Heal again. Evolve. Adapt.

And Build.

Because surviving is not enough.

You were born to rise.