Win

A child once starved of tender eyes,

Will chase the stage where triumph lies,

Mistaking cheers for love withheld,

Still longing for the hug unfelt.

The pattern whispers through the years,

A kingdom built from hidden fears,

For every prize, a hollow sound,

The need for more comes back around.

Some face the dark and choose to stay,

To meet the wounds, not look away,

To walk through fire, slow and true ,

And find the self they never knew.

But others run from what they feel,

Demanding proof the scars can heal,

Though only they can break the chain,

And give themselves what ends the pain.

The truth remains, both sharp and kind,

No win will ever heal the mind,

Until the heart can see within,

And love the self without the win.

Cathrine Hottran 2025