Thorns were thrown at her shoes
Whispering like needles
And she, a nimble listener
Bleeds while picking it up

Eyes of ripe pineapples
Gaze upon her entity nauseatingly
The pain of flaws she used to deny
Complete the puzzles of her self

Once scattered as the leaves of narra
Unwary like a child in the street
Lost in the breeze of own doubts
Yet she chose to dance with the stars at night

Now, she is blissed-out with full of blemish
Like the monthly curtains in the kitchen sink
Luster of the northern lights at dusk
Rare sheen just like a meteor shower