short poem

I push and I push,

I climb mountains, I cross rivers, through vast vegetation I find myself lost in a treacherous terrian.

The path continues to get rougher as I march on, why do I do this?

Why won't I give up?

Everytime I fall I pull myself back up. 

I look at myself and despite everything I've been put through, I am here.

I am standing tall.

I am not what happened to me.