They call her adorable,

They do not know that she finds it deplorable,

Because outside she may be a mouse,

But inside she roars like a lion.


In times of desperation she will find release,

Breathing fire,

Unwinding the coiling flames flickering defiantly in her gut.


And like a dragon, or a giant,

There is no denying what she is.

It blatantly smacks them in the face that the one they called a child is anything but.


Like all major revelations, it must be seen in order to be believed.

So the cycle goes on,

The misinformed and disbelieving continuing their mistreatment

Of the girl with the quiet words and unobtrusive air.


Shamefully unaware of the opinions she has to share

And the wisdom that swirls beneath her

Glimmering eyes, unhidden, but glossed over and missed

By the miscreants that crowd her.


They only perceive in their brutal and cruel perusals

The outward appearance and not the inward power

Building its fortified castles in her veins.


Strength and motivation, a bright molten stream of gold

Flowing through her soul and grasping

Those who truly see her in a mighty fist,

Pulling them in and dragging their hearts from their chests

To collide with her own and receive just a bit of that gold

That drips from her in rivers as the oddity of a crucial piece of her

Pumps her full of it until she overflows, unashamedly.


They call her adorable,

They do not know that she finds it deplorable.


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