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Master Hybrid Poet Voice · Power Poem
I Rise Even When the World Forgets Me
A fusion of 10 legendary poets in one voice.
Poem III
There are mornings
when the world wakes without me—
when the sky turns its pale shoulder
and remembers every name
except mine.
Days when the mirror
looks at me as though I am a rumor
still learning how to be real.
And in that quiet ache,
that tremor of almost giving up,
I hear the old voices whisper:
**Rise.
Even now…
rise.**
For the world does not reward
the silent battles,
the swallowed storms,
the nights I held myself together
with nothing but breath
and the fragile thread of “try again.”
No applause comes
for the wars the heart hides.
✶ ✶ ✶
But still—
I rise.
From the ashes of yesterday’s doubt,
from the rooms where hope felt
like an uninvited guest,
from the heaviness that tried
to steal the name I earned
through surviving myself.
For somewhere beneath the ribs,
a fire refuses extinction.
A small, stubborn ember
that believes in dawn
even when I cannot see the horizon.
Call it courage.
Call it defiance.
Call it the sovereign truth
that I was made for more
than surrender.
So let the world forget me—
let it turn its indifferent face,
let it misjudge the weight I’ve carried
with a smile that cost me
a thousand unspoken nights.
I do not rise
to be remembered.
I rise
because I am still becoming.
✶ ✶ ✶
Every scar says:
**Not yet finished.**
Every breath says:
**Still here.**
Every heartbeat says:
**Watch me.
I am not done.**
For strength is not the roar
of an unbroken warrior—
it is the whisper
of someone who is tired
to the bone
yet still chooses to stand.
It is the quiet insistence
that the story is not over
just because the chapter hurt.
And I—
I rise with the fury
of storms that learned discipline,
with the tenderness
of wounds that learned wisdom,
with the fire
of a soul that has died
and resurrected
more times
than anyone knows.
✶ ✶ ✶
So let the world forget.
Let it underestimate.
Let it sleep on the name
I carved from my own ruin.
For I walk forward
with a quiet thunder—
a truth that does not need permission
to burn bright again.
And when they finally notice—
when they turn and whisper,
“Where did this strength come from?”—
I will simply smile.
Because the world may forget me,
but I…
**I remember who I am.**

