Bulletproof

Life has made me bulletproof.

Adversity has required me to take up

self-made armor

in attempt to protect myself.

My heartbreak refuses to let anyone in—

not even you.

I’ve been hurt in the past

and I refuse to be hurt again.

I’ve thickened my skin and

hardened my heart—

I’m bulletproof.

So why am I still hurting?

This armor that I wear,

this bulletproof skin I put on

doesn’t protect me from the pain,

but just keeps it concealed.

I am forced to carry it around like a

burden.

I don’t have the strength

to remove the bondage around

my scars. I’m afraid to

surrender

my life to you and be healed

because it isn’t easy to let go of

what I’ve been clinging to.

But you—

You are a different kind of bullet;

a celestial force

with the ability to pierce through my pride,

removing the infection

of my ego and

healing the wounds inflicted

by my choices,

by my mistakes.

I want to be free from this

burden,

these chains.

I want to be healed.

Help me take off this armor,

I don’t want to be bulletproof

anymore.

Behind the Poem

Growing up, a phrase I heard a lot was “man up.” The men in my life used it to prepare me for reality—to remind me that life wouldn’t always be easy, and no matter what, I had to step up and handle my responsibilities. In many ways, that was true.

But over time, I started to internalize that idea in a different way. “Man up” became less about responsibility… and more about suppression.

I began to put on what I call “armor.”A way to shield myself from pain, sorrow, insecurity, and hardship—anything that felt like weakness. I thought I was protecting myself. I thought I was doing what I was supposed to do.

I thought I was becoming bulletproof. But I slowly realized something: I wasn’t preventing the pain.I was avoiding it. And in avoiding it… I wasn’t healing.

Some things—honestly, a lot of things—can’t be healed by people. They can’t even be healed by trying harder within yourself. Some wounds require something deeper.

They require God’s love and grace.

That realization is what shifted this poem for me. At first, being “bulletproof” felt like strength—like being untouchable. But as I grew, I started to see it differently. Being untouchable also meant being unreachable. Closed off. Carrying pain without ever releasing it.

So I flipped the idea. What if the goal isn’t to be bulletproof? What if the goal is to be open enough for God to reach you?

That’s why the poem moves the way it does. Because I don’t want to be untouchable anymore. I want God to pierce through my pride, my ego, and my self-doubt. I want Him to reveal the truth about who I am—and remind me of His love.

I don’t want to be bulletproof anymore.

Beyond the Blog

“Bulletproof” is featured in my book Behind the Smile, a collection of poems that explore the tension between what we show the world and what we carry beneath the surface.

If you'd like to read more, the book is available on Amazon.