I trusted where I should have paused,
I loved where I should have listened,
I stayed where I should have walked away -
and I called it my bad.
I lost myself in borrowed hearts,
in promises that faded with time,
in silence that answered louder than words.
I broke quietly,
healed slowly,
and learned that pain is not the end -
it is the language of becoming.
When my body fell, my family lifted me.
When my heart tired, faith held me.
When the world misunderstood me,
poetry understood me.
This book is the story of a soul
that was bent, not broken;
lost, not erased;
wounded, not defeated.
It is not a story of blame,
but of awareness.
Not of loss,
but of return.
This is My Bad.
And this is how I found myself again.