That some point when all this is written,
a rhyme of few words, a small sneak,
The tale of a girl, called Rapunzel!
Its hard to tell what she is,
She’s a closed flower,
A burning rage of an artist,
A little girl trapped in this world.
She’ll steal your eye, that corner look,
As she walks in her own might.
Never will she drop you with the least,
Of her attention, always ahead, that lioness.
Being one of the crowds has never,
ever been her way, yet she does,
Long to have been belonged.
But hyenas, a lioness won’t stand with you!
She can smack truth on your face,
And with a gentle smile, lovely,
She can hurt your core, truly deep.
You’ll love the way she does it!
But what she hides within will rarely,
you discover; that core, hardly understand.
She’s an inspiration, if you can look deep,
Those eyes, they haunt you in sleep!
Close yet very far, you live from everyone,
that little devil is called an angel by some!
A proud daddy’s girl and a sister’s gem,
I’m blessed to have you as my friend!
For words shall never be able to express,
Completely the emotion, they sometimes hurt,
The silence that goes between those breaths,
The world around it constrains.