They saw me rise, yet stayed their cheer,
As if my growth confirmed their fear.
They watched me toil through silent days,
But offered neither hand nor praise.
They sat with smiles and measured grace,
Yet seldom looked me in the face.
For progress makes the stagnant squirm,
And comfort dies where visions burn.
I gave them all, though none would leap,
A soul too proud to beg or weep.
I cheered their wins, I bore their pain,
And walked them home through loss and rain.
But when I stood with work well done,
My name fell soft from everyone.
They’d toast to kings they’d never met,
While I was met with vague regret.
A “that’s cool” here, a shrug, a glance,
Then back to feed and happenstance.
As if the fire I fought to own
Was just a spark that barely shone.
I watched them praise the distant stars,
Revere the tales of fame from far.
But here I stood, blood on the pen,
And still, I heard no “well done” then.
They liked me best when I was lost —
When dreams were fog and not yet cost.
When I was safe, unsure, and small,
And posed no mirror on their wall.
For growth, you see, reveals too much —
The cracks, the dust, the faded touch.
And they who cheered when I was less
Now sit in prideful, mute distress.
Yet I endured, with back held straight,
Not fueled by love, but shaped by weight.
I made of silence something gold —
A fire no shadowed heart could hold.
I danced alone beneath the ache,
While prayers unspoken did not break.
And still I gave — and still I rose —
While wearing wounds nobody chose.
And if I never make their list,
If my ascent is still dismissed,
Then know this truth: I rose without
The ones who whispered me in doubt.
Let them now clap for louder names,
And chase reflections fed by flames.
For I will build — with quiet hands —
What never needed their demands.
But when the crowd at last appears,
And echo rings in hollow cheers,
I’ll know which voices stayed unmoved —
And who remained while none approved.
For those who only praise the crowned,
Who never lift what’s yet unfound,
Will learn too late what loyalty
Is forged by showing up for me.
So let them share, and boast, and spin,
Their borrowed lines of where I’ve been.
But I will know — as I have known —
Who clapped the loudest when alone.
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My sentiments are the same as Willie’s.
Thank you very much, Michael — that really means a lot. I’m grateful it spoke to you too. It’s encouraging to know these words are resonating with others who’ve felt the same.
Powerful. Raw. True. This speaks for so many unseen hearts. 👏🔥
Thank you very much, Willie — that really means a lot. I’m glad it resonated with you. I wrote it for everyone who’s ever felt overlooked, unheard, or quietly dismissed. Unfortunately, I know that feeling all too well — and I knew I wasn’t the only one.