Unspooled Years

[Verse 1]
Rain-streaked pane, the city's pulse a distant hum,
At fourteen, bredda, childhood done before it come.
The loom of life was spinning fast, no time fi' pause and gaze,
Just interlocking threads of duty through them younger days.
Mango sweet and diesel smoke, the street where knowledge grew,
A tapestry of struggles, me, I learned to see right through.

[Chorus]
These unspooled years, they tell a heavy truth.
A quiet burden carried from my tender youth.
Now the fabric's worn, the patterns clearly seen,
This weary wisdom, what does all of it truly mean?

[Verse 2]
By twenty-two, the warp and weft of power, I would grasp,
Guiding hands through interstice, escaping every clasp.
A fierce protector, weaving plans for every soul I knew,
Reclaiming purpose, making sure the old narratives were new.
From market shouts to silent deals, the pressure it would mount,
Every single stitch a promise, every single life would count.

[Bridge]
Now twenty-five, the silence deep, the laughter sometimes thin,
This strength I spun, it costs a price, where do I truly begin
To mend the fraying edges of the person I became?
The quiet power of observation now feels like a burning flame.

[Outro]
Still spinning truths on the loom, under this moonlit sky.
A single thread of resilience, till the day I die.