No crown at birth, no chosen few,
Just hearts that dare to break what’s true.
No spark divine, no fate pre-set,
Just dreams that rise from deep regret. The stars don’t whisper names aloud,
They shine for all — not just the proud.
The soil of struggle grows the seed,
Of those who rise, of those who lead. A stumble’s not the final page,
It’s fuel to light the fire of rage.
The rage to change, to stand, to fight,
To turn the wrong into the right. The universe, with silent grace,
Has watched...
