Unknown days, of those mysterious talks with those output by my side to a friendship still unaware.
A girl ready to help in every possible way with a thick hide.
Shy, still not ready to fly, strange what kept those feet on ground,
where she was beyond the limitations of sky.
Thoughts which God knows from where she brought.
Scared, even the action of brave.
The art which she had, called her the artist.
With those colorful portraits to those magical words which sang along the feel of her heart.
Being there everywhere, accomplished gold without scared.
She fought for everything important and with everyone without a war.
The queen with a heart who worked harder than others.
From start to end, with or without any help,with others and many times for them.
She always built her castle on sand.
Looks was what she thought, and hooks were something she had formed.
Which kept her still and attached to her thoughts which were no thoughts at all.
She never understood that presences were born and appearance are formed.
Yet, she was best in to without a thought.
Beauty, before the beholder was in simplicity which she was worried of.
She saw, and observed the surrounding, but never looked at herself.
She would have seen a person, a girl stronger than she ever thought.
Something that kept her,low,with the images which never go,
so much of what everything she had but nothing to show.
What I have for her is beyond the words,
feelings which never had a voice.
They would never be described, they were the painting of dark, in a hope,
with black not color but ink.
Ink which rather draw a strangeness between us and hold us both,
on each edge of a boat.
Which we usually row with argument and with a hope which have nothing in it but a belief,
of this relation unnamed, yet caught some fame and never to describe and unknowingly is changing,
increasing,with every other day it's never the same.
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