Everything is almost paradoxical.
Every truth seems to arrive
with its shadow.
That much
I've learned from my time here.
Life has been a rollercoaster
that forgot how to level out—
always falling,
always climbing,
never still.
From the teenage boy
hawking goods beneath a stubborn sun
to make ends meet,
to the grown boy
collecting dreams
he may never hold.
Sometimes,
adding weight makes the burden easier to lift.
I've made mistakes.
I've paid for them.
Truth be told,
I've always preferred learning through bruises.
And some of my suffering
has existed only in my mind—
yet imagined storms
can still leave real wreckage behind.
I am not always happy.
And that's alright.
Sadness deserves a seat at the table too.
It is my rebellion.
My refusal
to worship forced smiles
or counterfeit joy.
Every morning,
I brush my teeth,
bathe,
comb my hair,
and step into the day
smelling clean
in the middle of a messy life.
Strange how
the smallest rituals
can keep a person together.
I cannot hate life.
The most I can do
is challenge it,
like a candidate contesting an election.
I do not spend my days
complaining about my hardships,
though sometimes
others have helped create them.
Still,
when all excuses are stripped away,
the final choice
was mine.
And so is the responsibility.
I've learned to travel lightly
with my expectations.
I ask little from people.
Not because they are cruel,
but because most are carrying burdens
I cannot see.
Nobody has it all.
Everybody is fighting something.
And whatever we possess,
the human heart
always seems to whisper:
more.
There are those
the sun punishes in summer
and the rain abandons in winter.
Those who cannot eat.
Those who cannot walk.
Those who cannot speak,
or see.
Those behind bars.
And there are those
who can't experience any of these things.
Why?
Because they have already returned
to dust.
Yet here I am.
I can speak.
I can walk.
I can eat.
A roof still shelters me from the sky.
So why do I sometimes
underappreciate the life I have?
Because ordinary gratitude
often loses its battle
against extraordinary ambition.
Because I want more.
I want my name
to outlive my footsteps.
Because I want to leave carrying things
I was never born with.
I am not saying it is wrong to dream.
Only that every dream
comes with a possibility
few dreamers discuss.
Some dreams remain dreams.
And if that happens,
it will hurt.
But possibility owes us nothing.
So I will pray.
I will work.
I will hope.
And when my final page arrives,
I hope I have left the mark I intended.
I hope I have given others
a life gentler
than the one that shaped me.
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142,603 Literary Works • 679,103 Reviews
First, I like how the narrator says it's okay not to always be happy, and that sadness isn't necessarily a bad thing. It deserves a seat at the table, to be recognized and felt. I like how the narrator doesn't try to fake happiness if he doesn't feel it. Instead, he simply pushes on, doing ordinary tasks to keep himself together.
The narrator is unable to hate life or demand too much from people because he understands that everyone carries a weight. And even though life can be tough, it's important to appreciate the simple things we have because not everyone has them.
I especially like the lines:
"Because ordinary gratitude
often loses its battle
against extraordinary ambition."
Even so, the narrator is human and can't help but want more. And then I really like the ending, where the narrator hopes to leave a lasting impression on the world and the people around him, giving others a gentler life than the one that shaped him.
as always, your poems are beautiful! ❤️
You flatter me too much, that line actually is the heart of the poem I guess, and yes sadness deserves a seat at the table , I'm glad that you agree lol,
Thanks for another thorough review, I appreciate and looks forward to yours,
And your poems too are beautiful 💕