small,
just one tiny little girl.
crying baby, crawling baby.
outside world.
got herself her own space,
tracing her own star.
making shine her own light. so easy to let go by other's comments...
eAsily breakable, fragile. but she never shows... no, this story is old. little girrrlz never show.
all the songs, think they were writen for her. As the big "no- they were not" weights on her
and all the "no, these are not for you" too... eating all the cookies. chocolate cookies. all she can eat. all she can't bear is hearing her own crying. sings, contains. someone will come and try to stop her from showing her sorrow dressed in anger.
see the little flower blossoming? the little flower? and busy bees? all of that she finds cute, she follows them into their world and she believes in flowers and trees and insects. locked inside herself.
-my drawing, by the way. it is profound like a five years old's.
Five years odds.
(starting with horses... on boys for pele).
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