Every smallest matter on earth is a balanced substance of impurities and goodness.
What could she become without those injuries on her arms?
How would she purely be made of just charms?
Everyone has weaknesses she just made hers into strengths
Yet, how would she fight others with her weak strengths?
Her balance was neat, as clean as walking on a rope
She held her dignity high and looked forward with hope.
Though she always knew the chances of tripping down were high
But she also knew there was one single chance of flying in the sky.
Everyone has a good and bad in them
One needs to understand what to condemn.
Nobody is perfect and never can be
But there’s always a way to be free.
It’s obvious the night wouldn’t be so perfect without the stars
One wouldn’t be so beautiful without those scars.