They tried to break you,
whispering doubts like venom,
believing you’d wilt
under the weight of their words.
But they don’t know that
you are a peony,
thriving in the harshest soil,
blooming despite the cracks in the earth.
Let them speak.
Let them judge.
Their words cannot touch
the queen who reigns within you.
Let them call you small,
while you carry universes
within your chest.
You hold galaxies in your soul
a universe too vast
for their shallow minds to grasp.
So rise, my sister
unshaken, unbroken
and wear your crown of resilience.
You are light.
You are fire.
Cry if you must,
but never dare you forget
You were never meant to be ordinary.
You are a queen,
born to rise,
to wear your crown with quiet defiance,
and rule the world
they said you couldn’t touch.