She was her own person,
Opinionated, stubborn and strong.
She was her own supporter,
Loud Enthusiastic and powerful all along.
She had her own demons,
Below her bed or in the cupboard.
But she also had her angels,
Whispering over her shoulders calling her demons absurd.
She had a lot of potential,
The kind that could fuel a rocket to the moon.
She had a lot of talent,
The kind humanity would one day call a boon.
She had a pretty face,
But it never did her good heart the justice.
She had unmatched aesthetics,
But it never came to her own notice.
She had a pleasant persona,
She had a warm welcoming vibe.
She had the qualities of a champion,
Only struggling to find her drive.
If she lacked something it was self-love,
Which she spent recklessly on the people around her.
She lacked a little bit of perspective,
Which made her vision a little blur.
What she needed most was a shovel,
To dig deep inside her beyond all the rubble.
Cause that is where it was lying all along,
A brain and a heart as big as the amazon.
She was far from perfect,
She was a piece of art.
A masterpiece for the ones who understood it,
A simple lovely human being for the ones who could not.