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.