The Unbreakable.

The one who cries herself to sleep.

The one who thinks she is the misunderstood,

Is no longer alive. 

Period.

Now she is the one who charges into the good vibes, 

with an open heart and a beautiful crooked smile.

She frears no one with the tounge of a silver sword.

 

She has love and support and that is all she will ever need.

 Its is pulchritudinous to see a firgure in the reflection bloom,

Into a wonder that is the most gorgeous lotus.

 

Who is that " she " you ask?

That "she" is me.

This poem is about: 
Me

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