Barefooted, ragged, with neglected hair, she was a thin slip of a girl, like a new moon
Head hung like a dying flower
She gave herself with open palms
Yet every sorrow and distress found her like flourishing weeds
There was no one I admired and hated more
The way they peeled her to the core
And she revealed she had more seeds to grow
Never was she afraid to show
The unchanging depths of her heart
Worth its weight in gold