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Past Crisp wind breathing, Into her eyes gazing away from this life. Searching for her escape, from all the mistakes her parents made, trying to shed those rags for something, higher into her, that which she wants to grasp, ignoring settlement for anything less. Lord, to but behold her; she is friendship incarnate, she is lovely bitch-goddess, temper with taint of playful. She has become this, striving forward with mist in mind. She is epitome of Girl-power, Rounded hip and in-style tastes, for now she has gotten past, Proceeding to future I have seen others lead before her. Few words to accept, few to leave, case in-point those of searched and found, In the end I hope she finds her desired crown. |