She spreads her wings.
And lets her imagination fly.
Letting fluency take her hand.
And lets the wind guide her.
Pencil stroke by pencil stroke.
Her minds image gains life.
Piece by piece.
Her creation gains a soul.
And day by day.
Her Love gains a heart.
People can say harsh words.
But she didn't let them have their say.
She made her craft her own.
And took neither criticism nor praise to heart.
But let her work at her own make.
Rather than one in the image of others.
No one believed in her but one.
And one was all she needed.
Days. Months. Years passed.
The girl became a young woman.
And with this, her artists whim took greater grasp.
She completed her work in no time.
After so many years, her love was alive.
Her wings, shining in the dimmest light.
She had proved some wrong
Yet she proved them right.
Soon after.
She passed away.
Her wings torn from her at the time of her pride.
But she didn't care.
She had shown the world how wrong they were.
And as her wings were torn from her.
She smiled.
For she had lived her life well.
As to her.
She had lived a life worth living.
 Dodexora · Wed Jan 14, 2009 @ 04:50am · 0 Comments |
