She once was a little flower

Not knowing how to speak

But when she did

Something beautiful happened

She became herself

And learned from all her failures

She became a newer soul

Grown up, filled with gold

And now that she’s older

She has become a monument

Of her own….

 

A freaking movement

Of her own

Once a gorgeous flower, now a migration

She is trekking somewhere

On a long, long cold miserable journey

But she can defeat it

The beast,

Inside out,

 

Like a monarch butterfly

Delicate, that flower

Once twisted and bent

From the wind and the other elements

Now a solid piece of construction

Grounded by its legs

She shall not falter

Quiver or quake

 

The rain no longer worries her

And she chuckles at the thunder and lightening

As it strikes across her gray sky

Because she knows

 

All too well, that after the storm there’s a golden calm

And her skies are no longer gray

Marking the sound of a raining day

But blue with brilliance and hope

 

This explicit phenomenon

Bewitches others as they grip onto sadism and desperation

She makes them marvel at her splendidness

Because she is a wonder

That far out reaches believing