Made of broken pieces

She is proof that you can walk through hell and still be an angel

She is life itself, wild and free

A perfectly put together mess

Her soul having fought infinitely many wars to save itself

Sometimes she is a flower and sometimes the rain

Yes, she is made from all those who built her,

And all those who have broken her

She conquered her demons and made peace with herself

Her black is beautiful

The world tries to tell her otherwise,

But she feels it deep,

Down in her bones

Something of old forgotten queens

Born to slay and be seen

She fails, she laughs

She stands up she smiles

She never gives up

She fights, she resists

She refuses to shrink herself

Her being black is power

Beautiful African thing, you gave me life

You are every woman

You’re a fighter

The world wants to define her,

They think they know how she feels,

They don’t know all she ever wanted was to be set free

Raised up to think, “This is how queens look”,

But from the wrong people

She wants to be free,

She wants to be different,

Through the fickle seasons of life

She is misunderstood,

But she is unapologetically a Queen

She carries life not shame,

Because she is an African Queen