A crown made of curls, strung tightly together.
Where is the fire in your eyes?
Melanin Goddess!
Your curves like paths untouched,
Your legs, your thighs perfection unmatched.
Why have you lost the grace in your steps?
He cast you aside as you're much too mouthy
And now your throat has lost its sound.
Your eyes are shut to the world,
Tears gracing them every second.
Take your time princess.
Lick your wounds, shed your tears,
And hide your face.
But whatever you do, cower from your fears.
For when the sun rises above the horizon,
You'd raise your head up and wear your crown.
Your eyes burning with its fire
And your voice commanding the space it deserves.
Amy's Artistry
This is beautiful
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