PANINKSOULFULPEN
In halls of echoing laughter and shadowed doubt,
Stands Talia, the storm-clad queen of spoiled fire-
A brave brat with tongue like lightning's shout,
Yet whispers of self-doubt chain her hidden lyre.
She struts as lioness, unchained and wild,
Commands the world with eyes of sapphire steel,
But nights confess her heart, a fragile child,
Dreaming of the law's throne, where wounds won't heal.
Then comes he-the singular, silent tide,
One man of quiet valor, depths unseen,
Whose gaze unmasks her masks, pulls fears aside,
A brave soul taming tempests, pure and keen.
No thunder in his voice, no crown of gold,
Yet knees of iron queens before him bend;
Her bravery crumbles, stories left untold,
In his embrace, the brat finds her true end.