Some girls are the emerald atop of the hill,
The ones kissed by sunlight.
Chameleons, changing from a wildflower to a daffodil.
The Riding Hoods, travelling in the forbidden with courage and might.
“Pretty” and “Beautiful” are vain phrases,
Enigma of expressions like an unfinished dream in mazes.
Eyes shines like a dew tickles on a sheen leaf,
Those who can never be described in brief!
Wishing to listen the stories of brave females,
Instead of pseudo docile princess in fairy tales.
The ones who loathe princesses and desire being a pauper,
Embracing assorted shades like the coloured water.
Escaped prisoners of the troubled past,
Cocooning emotions like master weavers.
Eccentrics who wear the “unaffected mask,”
Unknown that damaged girls are usually healers.-Enigma
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