Forged in Fire

I was once a man of iron,
shaped by love, bent by trust,
standing strong in the home I built,
never fearing time or rust.

But love, it is no gentle forge it does not shape with careful hand.
It bends, it breaks, it burns, it brands,
until you scarcely understand.

The heat came fast and found my frame,
the hammer striking true,
what once felt sworn to keep me safe
cut deeper than I knew.

I carried weight I could not share,
I bore it all alone,
and love that is not held by two
will turn to stone.

And so I fought, and so I failed,
and still the fire stayed,
leaving me in the wreckage,
burning in the fray.

What once was solid turned to smoke,
to ash, to memory,
but in the dark I made a vow
I would not disappear quietly.

I stepped into the fire’s maw,
let the embers mark my skin,
let the weight of all my failings
melt the weakness deep within.

I faced the truth. I held the past.
I let the scars remain
not as chains, but as reminders:
strength is born inside of pain.

Some things will never change at all.
That truth I now can name.
I no longer carry what was not mine
or answer to its flame.

I am not the man I was.
I stand refined by flame and time.
The past may whisper, call me back,
but it will never claim what’s mine.

For I am iron. I am fire.
I am forged anew and free.
What once could break or bind my life
no longer shackles me.