Im Living My Life Poem by Daniel Chapman

Part of my life is ink and iron,
tattoos etched like chapters into skin,
lessons learned behind walls and rules—
where loose mouths draw the line
between wisdom and foolishness.

Part of my life smells like gunpowder,
bullets, blood, sweat, and tears—
a reality I didn't visit,
but survived for years.

Part of my life still dreams—
quiet wishes, stubborn hope,
moments where happiness exists
without the weight of the world pressing close.

Part of my life knows lies by name,
has shaken hands with deceit,
watched greed, envy, and hate
get dressed up as leadership
and called 'great.'

Part of my life is all of it combined—
because every day I witness sorrow
and love shows up late, if at all.

Part of my life carries too much love to give,
yet I feel death breathing closer
with every risk I live.

My life isn't clean enough to be right
or broken enough to be wrong.
I ask for no sympathy—
this is my truth,
and I'm still standing,
still living my life.