No Plan B

They laugh at the dreamer, wild in the eyes,

Who burns every bridge as the old self dies.

They say, “Be prepared. Have a backup in place,”

But he sets his resolve with a stone-hearted face.

No cushion to fall on, no side-door escape,

No alternate path he can quietly shape.

Just this — this one chance, this fire, this spark,

To strike through the night and conquer the dark.

The world sees a risk; he sees a demand.

A voice that commands him: “Stand where you stand.”

No room for retreat. No time to delay.

No whispers of doubt can carry his way.

While others debate if the mountain’s too steep,

He’s halfway up with blood on his teeth.

His focus is brutal, sharp as a blade —

Forged by the fear of a plan that never was made.

Because when there’s no second, no shadow to cast,

You bet on yourself — and you win or you last.

And that kind of pressure, that depth of belief,

Turns silence to power and pain into peace.

So let them all watch as he builds from the dust.

He must — because must is the root of all trust.

They’ll never know why he refused to flee.

They underestimated the man with no Plan B.