Muted Majesty

She walked through fire and came out silent — not broken, but reborn. Muted Majesty is her armor of grace: fierce, untamed, and pulsing with the strength of a woman who will never be caged again.

She once mistook control for something kind,
A voice that praised, then pierced beneath her skin.
She wore his moods like weather, undefined—
And learned too late how silence can begin.

But leopards never linger in the cage.
She slipped the snare with nothing but her will.
No fury, no farewell, just quiet rage—
The kind that builds, then burns, then stands stone-still.

Now grace is hers, and so is space and breath,
Her gaze no longer seeking to be seen.
She wears her past like velvet — not as death,
But proof that she survived where she has been.

She walks in calm — not tame, but fully free.
The wild came back. And now it walks as she.