At twenty six, when most chase calm,
I walked into storm with open palm.
Not for fame, nor for the roar,
But for a war I’d long ignored.

Beneath the skin, the mirror cracked,
A rage, a silence, a past unpacked.
Not fists at others, but at my fear
Each punch a prayer, each bruise sincere.

Childhood dreams wore corporate suits,
While my soul drummed tribal flutes.
In boardrooms bright with LED,
I saw a fighter buried in me.

Not one who breaks, but one who bends
Who bleeds, who falls, but never ends.
I joined MMA not to destroy,
But to rebuild a broken boy.

Each round, a truth the world can’t fake,
Each fall, a lesson the ego takes.
A dance of pain, a breath, a slip
The poetry of blood and grip.

I trained not to hurt, but to heal,
To know which scars are fake, which real.
To meet the man I never knew
The one who stood when others flew.

At twenty six, I wrote no vow,
Just taped my wrists and faced the now.
The mat became my silent scroll,
The cage a forge that shaped my soul.

So ask me why I joined this fight?
Not to prove the world I’m right.
But to face the storm inside my chest,
And lose my fear and find my rest.