Serene Legend

She's a rhapsodic tale of might beyond falu dynamics sailing through heartbreak's stormy strikes and Lupus fight. In an exchange of blows with darkness, she steams in granite, kindness gleams in a tempo of battles. A legend true, her arms zaffre. I watch her cool her scars in a spaniel of ashes. Fierce in boldness, her story a delight of arch angels aligned in a phoenix crawling deep as the skies. She dances in an oasis of lies clinging to an anchor that aids her fall. The burning tints in her allure stagnate the wind's sway. How can one be so valuable yet disposable? She thinks. I see her dreams spread like thighs on sheets in a wildfire of chocolate cosmos. Her sadness springs as a parcel of land in a mindless estate of shame. Her love without barriers flows like nature's most accessible asset. What's not to love? Even in her disgruntled cave, she goads the sunset to gloat in a jungle of enchanting Belladonna. The constant search for blinded rays breaks her into thorns of shredded silence. Her soul in torment of a struggle to breathe, her mind and her, a clash of pigmented water and oil. She is a crash where humans stroll as spectators. I bleed in her toil for validation, racing the edges of the universe In a loud echo of wails, in search for perfection, she soaks in her worth. Her voice rings in heavenly camouflage and a lullaby of dahlias, so distinct you could feel the rareness, an exotic love on. She paints the clouds with selfish love, it rhymes in truth and bleeds in hues. Crying with the wolves to the same old love her smile quivers like ice cream. She storms in a pillar of polar bears plotting in white and black. Her plight, I want you to know, so you can drown with her, round and round in the den of bad liars. Like rare magic, she's good for you. Her eyes, a souvenir of vulnerability in a Star dance. Her lyrics run like body heat. I want to soothe her sobers in undercover of her past life, reviving her so her feet can dance again. Naturally made wonder that flows back to you. She is humble, a name that sings in history hall. Lost in concealed attention of sorrowful foxes. Red veins amidst those bright eyes. Alone in thousands of chained expectations. No butter can set the excruciating thoughts of having just 30 years to live. Striving every day awaiting and counting the time, when she can finally sleep with her angels alike.