She was once a child,
With an imagination that run so wild,
In her ignorance and oblivion,
She knew she was a champion.

A gem in the Potter’s hand,
His crystal of light, only made of sand,
Broken by the hands of time,
She tries so hard to make the words of her lines rhyme.

Mummy put her in front of the mirror,
Its dazzling exterior a prism of terror,
She sees in the rainbow reflections,
Fear, hope and love in random directions

She is drenched in a world of phantasmagoria,
Of a truth she feels a Heavenly euphoria,
She is ready to offer love as pure as a dove
Her crystal tears and pained past truly do carve

She knows deep down she is special
It’s a beauty that goes beyond her facial
But you see, these mirrors only reflect what exterior
With not a single clue, the image of the interior.

These are no longer childhood fantasies,
Of angels and ballerinas, heroines and princesses
She will sculpt her own dreams and visions,
In all of her human imperfections

She is a spectrum of all that was, is and is to come.

 ~ Metty Markwei
(c) PoeTori Inc. 2010
Copyright. All rights reserved.




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