The Crown Been Heavy

This piece lives in the space between losing who you thought you were and becoming who you’re meant to be — a quiet, unseen stretch where growth feels more like breaking than rising. After The King Who Never Was, I had to face a hard truth: you can’t wear a crown built on wounds you refuse to heal, and you can’t lead from a version of yourself you’ve already outgrown. Some prayers come with weight you’re not ready to carry. The hands over the face aren’t shame, but pressure and exhaustion — the moment a man holds himself together while life pulls him apart. The open eye is the part that refused to die. The wings are responsibility, and the crown is not glory but a burden that reveals who you truly are. This is the collapse before awakening, the storm before Indlela Yobudoda — the breaking that forces you to choose: stay shattered, or rise back up more honest than before.