The sun is waking up like a small rose rises up,
she is beautiful.
Across her little cave there is a river, a blue and white and purple river.
She's a pretty sunbeam.
the only flower in the iceberg,
the bravest snowflake in the desert,
she doesn't know anything about it.
Running through her silly problems, silly for those they think this is all about sympathy,
she hits everything that comes between her and her future.
she's shouting that this is not fair,
that she can't take it anymore,
but she's giving life by her empty words.
Her scars know she's stunning,
her wavy hair tell her she's more than important,
her heavy legs shout that she is the strongest person they know,
she only mumbles she feels like a stone.
she is full of dust,
but she is fully loved.
She is sparkles and magic stars
but staring in the mirror she sees a ghost.
to every broken girl, woman in this world,
written on June 8, 2018