Before the buds of August bloom into a pretty, fruitful flower,
She perched down into the couch to sip her coffee with some sour.
While doing so, disgorging the pothole of my thoughts, she questioned: Do I allow her?
To feel every fright down her spine, cower down the line, worry, dismay, dread confine,
Or to grin, scowl, howl under the mellow, mushy light
Nevertheless, I do claim: How her? Why her?
Therefore, obeying my inner radiance, I reprimand:
Live a little more, intonate the gratitude, and let your say soar.
Revisit the cinematic flashbacks, let the gleamy happy tear frore,
Look beyond the night, enrapture the day's roar.
Admit you are apologetic if it makes you feel empowered.
Shower with kindness before life devours your future endeavours.
Embrace your flaws and let them reflect your superpowers.
Be beautiful, be happy, be you. Elsewhere, who is she? without her?(the embodiment of my own innerself)
