They called her cruel

because she no longer trembled

when the darkness spoke.

But they never asked

how many nights

she sat alone

stitching herself back together

with bleeding hands.

The throne was not gifted.

It was built

from every version of her

that survived.

Now even monsters kneel

not because she demands it—

but because wounded things

recognize their queen. 🖤

5/5 Edited to

... Read moreReading this poem truly highlights the often overlooked struggles behind strength and leadership. It's not about an effortless crown or unquestioned power, but about countless painful nights of healing and self-discovery. From personal experience, the process of 'stitching oneself back together' after emotional hardships is both grueling and transformative. It requires a deep internal battle where vulnerability meets resilience. What really resonated with me is the idea that leadership—like the throne in the poem—isn't simply given; it’s earned through perseverance and surviving different versions of ourselves shaped by adversity. The metaphor that ‘wounded things recognize their queen’ speaks volumes about empathy and connection born from shared struggle. In everyday life, I’ve witnessed how people who quietly endure and grow from their hardships often gain genuine respect and influence. Their strength is not in exerting power but in embodying survival and growth. This poem beautifully captures that nuanced truth, reminding us that resilience often goes unseen but is deeply powerful. It makes me reflect on the importance of self-compassion during dark times and the courage to rise again, even when no one is watching.