She loves the sound of her feet
Walking away from the things
That are not meant for her
Without holding any grudge
To all those she left behind.

She loves the taste of victory
As she licks her own wounds
From all the battles she faces
That made her knees shake
But never weakens her resolve.

She loves the touch of madness
Residing in the corner of her mind
Which dances like a ballerina
Above the edge of her sanity
In her pursuit of deeper wisdom.

She loves the sight of her growth
Protruding from the windows of her soul
Surrounded by thorny experiences
Above the soil filled with big rocks
Yet the roots remain strong within.
© ashamelessintrovert