My stories story, is bursting out at the seams.
Told by many, never introduced with ease.
Complete with features,
of fractured bliss.
Yet this Angel, Flower, and Queen, will always eagerly insist.
A thru Z treacheries,
traps and snares,
that threatened to change this Angel’s heart flow,
and song to honorable steps.
Raised, to weigh heavily,
upon all pro’s and cons.
Chewing up words,
instead of responding.
Fighting back tears,
that had became infinite streams,
while tossing away rough drafts, that outlined,
Behold, the hard-coldness that meshes within my genetics,
as authority like figures,
to discourage paths’,
to weaken my wing’s dynamics.
Understand the concrete in which this Flower grew from,
were destroyed by defamed judgment,
solely glued in biased gum.
Unable to heal for years,
from many depthless and unheard apologies.
Stern beliefs took precedence,
as I embraced my royal qualities.
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