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The Girl
Her hair is the
color of gold.
Her eyes are ever-changing,
such as the sky.
Her skin, fair and untainted
as a newborn babe's.
Her smile, warm and soft as
the morning sun.
Her heart, made of glass;
cracked but still whole.
Her sorrow's as deep
as the sea;
Her happiness wains with
every wave of turmoil.
But somehow, every day,
her joy is renewed
and she finds a light
in the darkness.
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I wrote this, attempting to describe myself. (The image I have chosen to accompany this piece is not a picture of myself.)