She is a star wrapped up in human form, Unknown to herself Unseen by those around her.
A cell dividing into itself, pulled her in Around it, Then, through it as it divided around her white light.
Growing up, nothing is remembered. She may run too fast, Sometimes sing in voices only trees can hear, But human she is to herself.
She may need solitude, Because when she's alone, She's detached from obligations She don’t need to put on a show, She can hear her own thoughts And feel what's her intuition is telling her.
But the truth is, Throughout her life there will be times When the world gets real quiet And the only thing left is the beat of her own heart So she'll better learn the sound of it, Otherwise she could understand what it’s telling her
Would her grave be Deeper than her wounds?
Would the warmth of the morning sun Still reach to her cold forgotten body?
She'll leaving you wondering Why storms are named after people
They cut her so deep even stitches Couldn't seal and now her words bleed From wounds that can't heal
She pretended to be okay and she ended up Believing that she is She didn't realize that the more she pretend The more she was breaking. She got lost in her pretences And forgot about reality
She mastered the art of pretending Now its her time to break the mirage because There is so much out there for her to experience and she want to do before its too late.