I lay my eyes upon the sky,
Where the depths of my soul lie.
A tired, fragile soul—
Longing to escape the misery of it all.

Oh heavens, take my breath as yours,
Draw me into a realm where peace endures.
A haven free of these binding chains,
Etched so deep within my brain.

A prison I ache to leave behind,
Yet a home that soothes my mind.
I am nothing but a wandering soul,
Drifting, seeking its next north.

They say it's dangerous when a woman’s tears stop
When her heart grows cold
When even on her own, she doesn’t feel alone
When she stops waiting for your reply
And doesn't look to you to bide her time
You thought the battle was over the first time you held her
It’ll take much more for this war to be over

A chilling ceasefire
As the home becomes a house once more

"With the utmost compassion, the dark one reaps in waves..."
Yet she stands unshaken, a poet of storms,
weaving change into the wind,
etching echoes into time.
Through turbulent vessels of pride, she carves mirrors,
reflecting truths we dare not name.

"Please don’t arouse my anger..."
For love, she would move mountains,
for her children, she would break the sky.
Soft as a whisper, fierce as fire,
a mother’s wrath, untempered steel.
She writes in pulse and prophecy,
a warrior who shelters, a poet who shields.

"Grandma sold mother..."
Some legacies are bound in chains,
some are broken, thread by thread,
and from their ruins, she builds anew—
not with shame, not with sorrow,
but with shards made beautiful.
The weight of the past does not define her,
it is the stone she stands upon.

"I'm watching from the moon..."
She sees beyond the finite, beyond the stars,
whispering love across the silence.
Aneesah Lionheart, voice of time,
your words do not fade—they crystallize,
shining, burning, living on.

And if poetry is power,
then yours is an unshaken kingdom.