Swallow Your Pride
The walls we build with stubborn hands are thick and reinforced,
Defending positions where our errors first surfaced and sourced.
We wear our rightness like a shield, a heavy, iron vest,
And turn a simple difference into a battlefield test.
The ego is a clever thief that steals our peace of mind,
Convincing us that giving in is leaving strength behind.
It whispers that to compromise is purely to concede,
Blinding our eyes to the true path and the growth that we both need.
But stand within that fortress long, and notice how it feels—
The isolation grows as cold as hardened, heavy steel.
To never bend, to never yield, to never say we’re wrong,
Is just a slow, exhausting march to where we don’t belong.
For truth is rarely found within a loud, unyielding voice,
And staying stuck in errors past is a self-inflicted choice.
The hardest words the tongue can shape, that cut through foolish pride,
Are simply: "I am sorry, I was wrong on this inside."

























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