[Verse 1]
It's hard to fly to with broken wings
Wearing down and outta steam
Scraping all the rocky peaks
Bracing for a rough landing
So afraid to crash and burn
'Cause I know that it's gonna hurt
Heavy breath and blood shot eyes
Remind me that I'm still alive
Maybe the best way to know that your healing
Is when it's turning black and blue
Maybe the only way around the heartache
Is just going right on through
When the cuts so deep
There's a humble seed, welling up inside the wound
If we can grow stronger in the pain
Then maybe it's the best place to bloom
What you get is what you see
I wear emotion on my sleeve
Feeling buried underneath
Every promise I can't keep
Hardest days and longest nights
Resenting every sacrifice
But a beating heart and a will to fight
Remind me that I'm still alive
Every tear is helping me
See beauty in the honesty
And maybe the reality
Is I'm not broken
I'm just growing
Bloom
Song Meaning
Ryan Stevenson leans into a single botanical image for the length of "Bloom," refusing to let healing look instant or clean. "It's hard to fly with broken wings" sets the tone early — this isn't a song about being fixed, it's about the specific, undignified process of recovering while still visibly damaged: "heavy breath and blood shot eyes remind me that I'm still alive."
The song's central claim reverses the instinct to hide a wound until it looks better: "maybe the best way to know that you're healing is when it's turning black and blue." Bruising, in this framing, isn't a sign that something is going wrong — it's evidence the healing process has actually started. "There's a humble seed, welling up inside the wound" pushes the image further, treating the injury itself as the place growth begins rather than merely the place growth has to overcome.
"I'm not broken, I'm just growing" closes the song on reframing rather than resolution — the pain hasn't disappeared, but its meaning has changed from evidence of failure to evidence of process.