Her Crown
She wears her crown like thunder’s roar,Heavy with the battles fought before.A crown of scars, of broken vows,Worn with grace beneath furrowed brows.
Each jewel glints with stolen dreams,And every diamond cracks and gleams.The weight she carries, none can see,Yet still, she stands—unbowed, free.
Her hands are soft, but her heart is iron,Forged in fires no soul could quieten.She is the storm, the queen, the blade,A crown of thorns in her soul’s parade.
They try to take it, to make her small,But she wears it proud, above it all.For in her mind, she knows the truth—Her crown was forged in endless youth.