Breathing Through Failure

 I fail, and fail again
as if failure is my breath, my pulse, my proof of being.

Shameless, I walk this world still standing,
too tired to win, yet stubborn enough to live.
I count my days not to end them,
but to someday feel my mother’s nearness again.
If shame must be my lesson, I’ll learn it fully
and stay, imperfect, breathing, here.

I won’t die
not today, not to despair.
I will stand, even trembling,
and choose to breathe again.

Failures may circle like storms,
yet they cannot claim my will.
I walk wounded, not defeated,
alive, because I decided to be.