At times, she is selfish, sometimes insecure and impatient. She has her flaws and a hint of sadness in her eyes, but she hides it well behind a smile that almost appears natural. She’s delicate but tough. Mostly tough on herself. The mistakes in which she’s made often eat away at her conscience. She’s honest, but there are things she keeps to herself, understanding that not everyone deserves to unlock her secret door. There is madness on her mind, chaos in her heart, but there’s this quiet sense of hope that still lives within her soul. She isn’t perfect but she’s remarkable. She is you.
Not much of a poem, but more something of a rant about someone I recently met.