In the tempest of my mind’s fierce gale,
Where shadows loomed and doubts assailed,
I walked a path, oft deemed too frail,
By voices harsh, where hope had paled.

They spoke in tongues of bleak defeat,
In classrooms cold, their words did chime,
“You’ll mount to naught,” their chorus bleak,
But still, I climbed beyond their rhyme.

With every whisper, sharp as thorns,
That I’m the storm, the child awry,
I bore the brunt of scornful scorns,
Yet never let my dreams go by.

Bipolar’s swing, depression’s night,
The borderline’s uncertain dance,
Schizophrenic shadows, lacking light,
Each battle joined, I did advance.

They could not see the strength within,
The silent wars I fought unseen,
Against the tempest, fierce and grim,
I rose above what might have been.

And now, behold this cap and gown,
The first in line, my family’s pride,
A bachelors’ earned, my scepter and crown,
In knowledge’s light, I now abide.

So let them gaze with widened eyes,
At who I’ve become, against all odds,
A testament to the unyielding skies,
That bend and break at the hands of gods.

The problem child, the one “so different,”
Has sculpted triumph from the pain,
With every step, more proficient,
In spite of rain, I’ve grown through rain.

Now let the past’s cruel judgments rest,
For I’m still standing, tall and true,
A life reclaimed, a heart unbowed,
A brilliant light, forever new.

The whispers fade, the voices dim,
No longer shall their echoes chide,
For I am more than they foresaw,
A phoenix rising, in full stride.