A poem by Eric A. Seyram
They used you like rain on a farmer’s field,
Drank your kindness, then left you unhealed.
Smiles were masks, and promises—smoke,
Till the weight of their silence made your hopes choke.
Stanza II
They cheered while you carried their dreams on your back,
Then vanished like shadows when you lost track.
When you stumbled, they whispered, “You won’t rise,”
Not knowing your roots ran deep through their lies.
Stanza III
You were trampled by envy, betrayed by grace,
Yet every scar carved a stronger place.
For every door they slammed in spite,
A window opened and poured in light.
Stanza IV
You were never their puppet, never their pawn,
Not broken glass to be stepped upon.
The storms they sent to dim your way
Only taught your soul to pray.
Stanza V
And when they tried to bury your name,
You grew like fire, you rose from flame.
They fed your soil with cold deceit,
Now you blossom beneath their feet.
Stanza VI
Sabotage was the seed they sowed,
But it only helped your spirit grow.
Let them strike, let them scoff—
Their push can’t throw your purpose off.
Stanza VII
For you know the end you seek,
A mountain top, unshaken, peak.
And even when they laugh or doubt—
Your strength will turn their silence out.
Stanza VIII
So let them scheme, and let them fall—
You’ll rise above, in spite of all.
Every time they count you out,
You prove what growth is all about.
Stanza IX
SABOTAGE ONLY FUELS YOUR GROWTH
A truth you’ve earned, a silent oath.
And even when the winds are rough,
You bloom because you’re built tough.
