Pretty girl
She’s a small little thing,
uneven chompers she had.
She strutted when she walked,
being a small girl with a big mind.
Long violet wings,
which she didn’t use.
Not different from other pebbles,
yet bigger than any other rock.
She loved many,
yet by many she wasn’t loved.
Was she scared?
Maybe.
But.
She never let her fear stop her from taking that step her small legs could not reach.
A soft material she embraced,
carried no heart, filled with cotton.
A mouse she might catch,
would dissapear the following night.
Her tiny fingers which she used to draw,
stuff her gaze layed eyes upon.
She had no worries for she controlled,
the small little things which she adored.
About the Creator
mariana m.
one’s past does not determine their future
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