Rain may be ugly to some ...
How dead flowers.
But it is the sun that kills
As puts fire in the hearts of little girls weak
They grow and become women hunters
Running in the rain, ignoring their fears and anxieties
Knowing who they are, knowing that nothing is in vain.
The wind blows in my face truths
or simply take them away from me ...
When the weather is sultry
everything seems stopped
Until my intuition agrees
acting alone and without the help of the wind
finds all the lost fragments
causing a revolution in my feelings.
Love renews life
but hate you sometimes wake of lies.
Just as indifference by some people does not change what has already happened
Just like I'll never stop fighting for what's mine.
Just as I was once a poor little girl, now grown.
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