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Heart of Stone

He built his dreams with fire and steel,   Through sweat and pain, through grit and will.   His path was carved with silent nights,   A war he waged beyond the sights.   But love, so sweet, so soft, so near,   Whispered dreams into his ear.   A choice was placed upon his chest—   His passion’s flame, or love’s request.   He turned away from burning light,   Held her close, embraced the night.   Yet soon he found, to his dismay,   Both love and purpose slipped away.   For goals demand a heart of stone,   And love still longs to call its own.   To chase one means to lose the fight,   To hold both tight is rarest might.   So walk the road with eyes aware,   Choose with wisdom, choose with care.   For once you drop what makes you whole,   You lose the fire—and lose your soul.
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Ruwa

In Manchester's heart, where dreams collide,
A man named Ruwa, in red, takes pride.
In the clash of titans, a fierce delight,
West Ham stands strong, against the Red Devils' might.

With each kick and every cheer,
Ruwa feels the tension near.
As the match unfolds, emotions rise,
A rollercoaster of hope and sighs.

When victory slips away like sand,
And West Ham triumphs, a bitter demand,
Ruwa feels a sting, a poignant pain,
Yet, from this ache, something begins to gain.

For in the sorrow of defeat's cruel jest,
A transformation, an unwelcome guest.
It hurts, it burns, this bitter taste,
Yet, Ruwa finds strength in the aftertaste.

As the wounds heal and scars remain,
He learns resilience, not in vain.
For defeats may alter, but not define,
The spirit within, a resilient sign.

In the ebb and flow of football's dance,
Ruwa discovers, in loss, a chance.
To rise again, with newfound might,
For the Red Devils, in darkness, find their light.

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