🛡️ The Armor and the Storm 🛡️
He stands at dawn, shoulders squared to the sky,
Eyes tired but unyielding, refusing to cry.
The world tells him to be strong, to never bend,
But strength is not silence—it’s knowing when to mend.
The storms he faces carve lines on his face,
Etching the story of courage, endurance, and grace.
Each bruise, each failure, each battle unseen,
Shapes the man he is, not the man he seems.
He may walk alone, but he carries the fire,
A flame fueled by loss, by hope, by desire.
The quiet moments, the nights spent awake,
Are proof of the soul no storm can break.
So lift your head, even when shadows press,
The heart of a man beats through pain and stress.
Your armor may crack, your shield may bend,
But real strength is rising—again, and again.
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