A little more than misunderstood
For the most-part
Of her life,
A magnet
For destruction,
Unavoidable,
Was all sorts of strife.
Made of best intentions,
A valuable, fine jewel;
Priceless and rare,
Kindness was the fluid
running through her veins;
Her heart was only capable
Of empathising,
It couldn't help
But to care.
A wounded healer,
Strong enough to know
That her pain was never in vain,
Her experiences came with lessons,
A gift she offered with pride,
Not with shame.
There weren't many
Trials or tribulations
that she didn't overcome,
She was always
A little miss understood,
A little warrior,
A champion,
Second to none!
In all of her downfalls
She was still ever grateful,
Never was she guilty
Of being unappreciative
Or resentful, whilst in pain,
As hard as it ever got,
She didn't stop to count
The numerous falls,
Or blows that she received;
She just kept on getting up
Again,
And again,
And again.
By Lady R.F. (C)2017