Impaired skin, my boy said rid the mind from a World of things. But this can't be about your hair or being thin, you have the eyes of God and so bold, a Queen. Under this Land is nature's jewel, in a way I understand why you chose Men as a change of crew. Dark texture and shy, roots pre-destined to mark the star of the sky, so never mind those pimples, the heart of Man pumps greed and becomes green at the sight of those dimples. I toss grace in here to your scars in predicaments, when your lost days in fear turn to beer, drugs and cigarettes. The puzzle piece to my Lung, how can this troubled Queen be done? Stretching both arms for wealth and strength, it's touching to know you held your guards at the arms of death. Cutting sweat with no alarm...you had to take his breath, so to keep harm at arm's length. Hold on Soul of tenacity, our modern walls should picture your face on grafitti, to resemble the forgotten wall-painted scriptures like the face of Nefertiti. No one knows the journey you chose, and so I'll leave this prose and let you be on your toes...