she's sick of the debate
Not knowing where she's going
The Little girl
A beautiful star,
but She doesn't chase her dreams
Because of her parent's greater schemes
She's far too young to live on her own
But far too old to be a child
Too old to cry to her mother,
But too young to fix this on her own
The days rise up faster than she can speak
The night creeps to the ground
She sneaks out of affluent bars of steel
her parents Call a home
she lies by the medieval oak tree
In the forest where no one can see
The pain she carries
The tears she cries
But over time, peace finally took over
The winds wiped her tears
As she was surprised
With the realization,
she could be her own
Her confidence rises like the sun
She walks on clouds in the light,
away from the Depressed lurking shadows
The wind leaped around
It was hard,
but she had to push forward and grasp her
goal Now free from control
The motivation to be her own
