Inspirations: Rise Up
You're broken down and tired
Of living life on a merry go round
And you can't find the fighter
But I see it in you so we gonna walk it out
And move mountains
We gonna walk it out
And move mountains
And I'll rise up
I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up
I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousand times again
And I'll rise up
High like the waves
I'll rise up
In spite of the ache
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousand times again
For you
For you
For you
For you
When the silence isn't quiet
And it feels like it's getting hard to breathe
And I know you feel like dying
But I promise we'll take the world to its feet
And move mountains
Bring it to its feet
And move mountains
And I'll rise up
I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up
I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousand times again
For you
For you
For you
For you
All we need, all we need is hope
And for that we have each other
And for that we have each other
And we will rise
We will rise
We'll rise, oh, oh
We'll rise
I'll rise up
Rise like the day
I'll rise up
In spite of the ache
I will rise a thousand times again
And we'll rise up
High like the waves
We'll rise up
In spite of the ache
We'll rise up
And we'll do it a thousand times again
For you
For you
For you
For you
Ah, ah, ah, ah
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Cassandra Monique Batie / Jennifer Decilveo
Rise Up lyrics © BMG Rights Management
When I hear Rise Up, it feels less like a song and more like a lifeline stretched across years I thought I might never cross. “You’re broken down and tired of living life on a merry-go-round.” That line is everything I have carried. The loops of trauma, the days and nights replaying violence I never asked for, the exhaustion of fighting to keep breathing while the world insists you should just move on quietly. It names it without apology. It sees the struggle, and it says: I see you.
The promise embedded in the chorus—I’ll rise up, I’ll rise unafraid, and I’ll do it a thousand times again—does not feel abstract. It feels like survival. After assault, after the body and mind betray you with fear and shame, rising is an act of reclamation. It is a claim on existence. Each day I have managed to stand, to speak, to assert my own worth, has been a quiet defiance against the forces that tried to reduce me to silence. The song mirrors that persistence, that refusal to remain under the weight of what was done to me.
There is also the way it insists on collective strength: for you, for you, for you. My survival has never been entirely solitary. Friends, allies, those willing to witness and believe me, have formed the scaffolding beneath my steps. And yet, so often, I have faced stigma—the quiet judgment about my mental health, the insinuation that my trauma made me unstable or less trustworthy, less capable of being whole. To rise up in spite of that stigma is harder, but no less essential. The song is a mantra for those days too: in spite of the ache, in spite of misunderstanding, in spite of the world’s impatience with brokenness, I rise.
All we need is hope, and for that we have each other. That line reminds me that activism and survival are intertwined. Speaking openly about assault, about the scars that mental health stigma leaves, is not just personal—it is relational. It is a commitment to those who come after, to those still in the shadows, to the possibility that acknowledgment and empathy can shift culture. Rising is not just endurance. It is resistance.
When the chorus swells, when it repeats the insistence that we will rise a thousand times, it feels like every small victory I have marked in journals, in art, in conversations with others, is echoed back to me. Every moment I have spoken, every time I have claimed space, every act of refusing shame, it is part of the rising. The song is a promise I make to myself and to the world: that no matter the ache, the fear, the isolation, I will rise. And if I can rise, maybe others can too.
This song is a hymn to persistence, a testament to resilience, a companion for anyone whose body, mind, or soul has been told it is too broken to continue. For me, it crystallizes my journey from assault and stigma toward reclamation and power. Rising is not a single act. It is a thousand small acts strung together across years. And I will rise. Again and again.
