Still I Push
The Man Who Pushed Himself
There I was
a boy with bars in his mouth
and rhythm in his bones.
They laughed.
“You’re not good enough,” they said.
“You’ll never make it.”
But I stepped into the battles anyway.
Sweat on the floor,
lights in my eyes,
and the crowd roaring like thunder.
And somehow
I won.
Before that I was dancing,
always the worst in the room,
always surrounded by people better than me.
So I stayed.
I studied their steps.
I sharpened mine.
Not because someone believed in me
but because I forced myself to.
Then came the army.
More voices.
More doubt.
“You won’t last.”
Yet there I stood again,
boots in the dirt,
proving them wrong
one more time.
I came back,
shaking cocktails behind the bar,
learning mixology like an art form.
Still the same whispers
still the same disbelief.
So I worked harder.
Another push.
Another climb.
Music called again.
Tracks with friends,
late nights,
beats in the dark.
Then life turned rough.
The wrong roads.
The wrong crowds.
To survive among sharks
I became one.
Sharp aim.
Cold lessons.
A man learning the world
the hard way.
Still
no cheering crowd behind me.
No partner saying “keep going.”
Just me.
Pushing me.
So I learned guitar.
Then piano.
Drums already in my blood.
Push.
Push.
Push.
I stepped into my uncle’s worship band,
wrote songs for love,
even when my voice cracked
trying to find harmony.
Push again.
Then university.
Then betrayal.
A knife from someone
who was meant to be my best friend.
That broke something in me.
A man I used to be
disappeared that day.
What’s left
is a shadow
learning how to walk again.
But even shadows
move forward.
So I write.
I build worlds.
I make music.
My first real track
under the name Treesar Greene.
No applause.
No great support system.
Just the same truth
I’ve always known:
Every week of my life
I had to push myself.
And maybe that’s my curse.
Maybe that’s my power.
Because I will keep learning.
Keep creating.
Keep rising.
But I pray
my sons and my daughter
never have to walk this road alone.
Because a life with no support
is a heavy road to carry.
Still
I rise.
Still
I create.
Still
I push forward.
And one day
the world will look back and say,
He never stopped.
