I fear I am losing myself again.
Not that I was found before, but I ache to be that person I once was.
The one who acquired kinship and required nothing more, nothing less.
The one who learned what it was to say no and be truly healthy; mind, body, soul.
Happy in her chaotic, inventive intellect.
She settled for nothing less than her prayer of him, however she fears he will be like the rest.
She has settled her weary mind and expects forever this time.

She worries of nothing these months, but is dismal for the day she loses her adolescence.
People think her insane when she talks of her dreamery and passions.
She aches to never grow up, for that is where creative aesthetic is lost.
"Stay with me forever Alice and Peter", she says.
Tell me the stories behind your pages and never cease to keep alive in this wit.
Remain as deranged as the lions mane atop her cleverness.
The one her maternal never loved.
Remain fierce as Aslan and gentle as a peony.
Most of all never lose confidence of your creative destiny.