Her ways….

She had beauty
Of an incomplete sculpture
Wicked for those with small minds
Goddess for one’s, who were kind

Nobody told her, to be brave
There was no hint, how to behave
She was blunt in a truthful way
Free like a bird,
In arms of blowing wind
She felt safe

Her thoughts would swing
like her fragile mood
Mostly loving, but sometimes rude
She would gift her heart, to those without intentions
Not needing one, she got all the affections

Yet her eyes would search of someone special
Special in a way, demanding no change
Accepting her, with no deceptions
She wasn’t judgmental
And never knew, how to be one

She would cry,
cry so beautifully
Letting her tears dance
On her rhythmic weep
As her sharp eyelid
Would bow down gracefully
Like a musician
At the end of symphony

 

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