She walks in quiet fire, no crown but the moonlight,
heartbeat a drum only freedom can follow.
Mama whispered, “Burn, but don’t let them see the smoke,”
so she dances on knives, every scar sings her name.
Hallelujah in her hips, rebellion in her throat,
she’s the storm wearing skin, the prayer that broke the chain.
Who’s gonna tame the girl the universe couldn’t hold?
She’s every page they tore out—now she writes in gold.