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Roar of the Unbroken
She was not born in gilded light,
No tender touch to soothe the night.
The world she knew was cracked and cold —
A thousand truths she never told.
She learned to roar before she spoke,
From chains of fear, her spirit broke.
No silver spoon, no soft embrace —
Just sharpened claws and burning grace.
They called her wild, they called her wrong —
But shadows made her fierce and strong.
She licked the wounds that others gave,
And carved her name from what they paved.
The lioness does not retreat —
She bears the scars, she claims defeat.
Yet still she rises, fierce and free —
A queen who owns her destiny.
For love was never fed with ease,
It hid between the jagged seas.
But now she rules where fear once lay —
The lioness has found her way.
Copyright ©
Devangi Mukherjee
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