The Fittest Poem by pedro moshood

Even though I tumbled a thousand time
By stepping on weak bridge of promises;
Even though the seed I've sowed
Into the sand of time didn't grow in due season;
Even though the path I took seemed the right
Before I knew it was laced in thorns,
Planted by homies, that bled me to the marrow,
Making ten Miles journey a hundred,
Yet I survived to be one of the fittest,
And that is what makes the difference