I could’ve grown up
with fire in my fists
and no softness in my tone.
Could’ve learned that power
meant control,
that women were objects,
and love was a tool to
gain selfish desires.
I could’ve laughed at pain,
mocked vulnerability,
and measured success by 
women I slept with or
beers I could drink.

I might’ve dropped out—
decided that effort was weakness,
that books were pointless,
and teachers just voices to tune out.
My sentences could’ve been crooked,
my grammar a mess,
my voice too rough
to ever speak something worth hearing.
I’d slouch through dinner
like manners were for someone else—
talk with my mouth full,
interrupt like the world owed me attention,
never knowing respect
because no one ever
showed me what it looked like.

It would’ve been easy to go numb—
chase pills instead of dreams,
lose myself in smoke and cheap thrills,
run from silence because it reminded me
of how lost I was.
I could’ve seen blue lights in the rearview
more than stars in the sky.
My name on a record,
not a diploma.

Bitterness could’ve been my home.
I’d hold grudges like lifelines,
believe that forgiveness was weakness,
and that pain deserved to be passed on.
I’d sharpen my heart with revenge,
walk through life armored and angry—
afraid to feel,
afraid to heal.

Through the years,
blessings have found me—
in places, in people,
in moments I never saw coming.
Though none would exist,
not a single one,
without the very first gift
woven into my story
before I ever took a breath.

I became steady.
I speak with meaning,
listen when it’s hard,
and love without keeping score.
I stand when it’s easier to fold,
stay when it’s easier to run,
and choose grace
even when pain takes me down.

Yet,
you weren’t the kind to shield me
from every fall,
weren’t afraid to let me break a little—
because you knew scraped knees
taught more than padded walls.
You let me learn the hard way
when soft answers wouldn’t stick,
not because you didn’t care,
but because you cared enough
to raise someone ready for challenges.
You understood the objective was to
prepare me for the world
more than protect me from it.
You weren’t raising a boy to hide—
you were shaping a man who could stand.

You saw the worst I could become—
the worst I had to offer.
Still—
Never once,
stopped giving your best.

I have a chance
to be something more than
I ever could have.

I just want to say—
Thank you.