I used to march without a sense of pride
And never held myself with high esteem.
Appeasing everybody else’s dream,
I’d lose the battle fighting for their side.
I was a soldier, blank and hazy-eyed.
My heart would stop and start and wait and scream
Because the fight would not ignite a beam
And leave me dark - a fight with strength denied.
But now, I’ll bid that weak design adieu.
Remove the shield that reaches from the past
And let my heart be stabbed with Wisdom’s dagger.
I now must run with strength in every shoe
And fight so that my will is not the last.
I’ll redefine what it means to have “swagger.”