The world can count her coins, but it cannot account for her crown.
She may walk in borrowed cloth, but Heaven signed her bloodline before circumstance learned her name.
Daughter of our Lord and Savior, she was not born reaching for royalty — royalty was rooted in her first breath.
Life may press her low, but low places are where crowns learn how to shine under pressure.
When she rises, she does not become a queen; she remembers she was never anything less. Author Lucyalia
© Slam Poetry by Lucyalia 2024–2026. All poems are copyrighted. Any use requires credit to
@Lucyalia. All rights reserved.