We are proud kids who forgot how to care

We rent compassion like a distant room

We turn our backs and call it fair

We dress our fear as love, as need, as gloom

Rebels once lost, now we fight those who grew

Teaching us names for the pain we now wear

Men wear confusion like borrowed skin

Women grow tired of being strong

Children command while elders give in

Babies run knives where the rich play along

A private park sings a lullaby wrong

Where crowns are earned by the urge to win

We compete to feel less hollow inside,

pin medals on wounds that never close.

We climb each other to touch the sky,

but the air up there still tastes like dust.

He said the greatest would learn to kneel.

Centuries passed.

We still dodge the sentence.

Tell me—

if love isn’t power,

what are we so afraid of losing?

We chase being better to earn a name

But mirrors laugh when the lights go low

We trade our silence for louder shame

Gold doesn’t teach what the veins should know

The void won’t bow to a trophy show

No crown can warm this surviving flame

I don’t know what love is anymore.

Those who claim to know

sell it as hunger,

dress it as lack.

Maybe love is the courage

to stay

when no one applauds.

If the servant leads,

then why do we keep running

from each other?