I don’t need a halo over me
I stand clean in what I see
No crown, no ceremony
Still the weight bow down to me

I don’t need a halo over me
No light staged for show to see
I walk straight, I walk free
Still the weight bow down to me

(oh—oh, oh—oh)

They thought growth meant soft edges.
Thought peace meant losing nerve.
But I got calmer, not quieter—
there’s a difference in the word.

I don’t argue with thunder anymore.
I let the sky decide its tone.
When the pressure start to hover,
I don’t panic. I stand alone.

There’s a stillness in my posture now.
Not fragile—just refined.
You mistake restraint for mercy.
I just choose where I apply.

No borrowed shine.
No staged ascent.
If I kneel, it’s by intent.

I don’t need a halo over me
I stand clean in what I see
No crown, no ceremony
Still the weight bow down to me

I don’t need a halo over me
No light staged for show to see
I walk straight, I walk free
Still the weight bow down to me

I don’t fight what shaped me.
I don’t hide what broke me.
I carry it different.

No applause.
No altar.
No audience required.

Just ground.

I don’t need a halo over me
I stand clean in what I see
No crown, no ceremony
Still the weight bow down to me

I don’t need a halo over me
No light staged for show to see
I walk straight, I walk free
Still the weight bow down to me

(oh—oh… oh—oh…)

I stand.