If only you could see the pain in her soul

Comprehend the endurance

Learn to love the broken and all of the small fragments

She holds herself high

A unique woman forever lusted by hunters

Shunning the menaces beneath her

On a quest for adventure and true romance

She gracefully spreads her fragile, glass-like wings and flies

Lost within her land of ink scribbles and paper, in a vast imagination, an eternal daydream; craved

Though, indeed, life is a skipping record on a phonograph

An obstacle-like cycle seeking a new path

The help of other hands viciously grasp and plant the needle between the seams

More damaged it has become

Intentionally and wondrously enticing your hunger for the stray

Boundless exploration within hindsight

Flowing, white fabrics of an angel dance between a forest of sunlight and greens

It is at this, just a fantasy, she’s at peace

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