She’s tender and tough.
Still the child who gently places fallen baby birds back in their nests.
Yet that girl who beat guys in sports and tongue covered swears.
Knows how to be stone-cold and walk like she’s crowned.
Cries only behind closed doors, on dim lights, without sound.
She’s mild and cruel.
The one who sleeps with all teddy bears so none feels blue.
An unstoppable beast who aim to destroy all limits and taboos.
A sore loser who battles to achieve her wins.
Believer of magicians with wands, faeries with wings, giants and jinns.
She’s silent and loud.
Silence attracts her like moon’s tumultuous tides.
Without music her life dies.
When she talks about her fantasies and passions,
The uncomfortable crowd witnesses her burning wild sensations.
She’s kind and mean.
The child who used to overwater plants to make them grow swiftly.
Heart-broken about awful crimes in the city.
People are judged by how they treat animals and shopping carts.
Sarcasm is one of her arts.
She’s a thief, the girl who stole the sky.
Words are her magical wings, making her fly.
A whiskey in a tea cup. Honest but sly.
She’s magic, a walking contradiction.
Difficult to understand by people who never knew what it was to live.
Because for her, life has been an addiction. ~Enigma