My father is no prophet,
but he did foretell one thing,
that he gave birth to a Courage.
I know I’m not perfect,
when they sleep I wake,
when they rejoice I cry.
On most nights I cry myself to sleep,
I cry about my past, future and present.
I fight a silent but fierce battle,
the silence so loud my cry can’t be heard.
But I’ve never abandoned myself and probably never will,
I will stand by myself through it all
because when I look in the mirror,
I see nothing but courage.
But guess what?
That’s probably because I’m Courage.