Get inside that churning head.
In the limits of that stead.
That point of view, point of pain.
Differs much from where you reign.
Needs a different kind of foe,
Or some space and means to grow.
Accepting her inhibitions.
Deep fondness without conditions.
A gentle hand, a steady bay,
Honoring of her errant ways.
It’s her path, it’s her device.
It is her who’ll pay the price.
Whether you’re with or against,
It’s how her time will be dispensed.
Treading not with timid souls.
Living loud is how she rolls.
So cheer her on, through and through,
In success and failure too.
Her battles waged all alone.
Integrating seeds you’ve sown.
Unfolding in her own way.
Never minding what you say.
And the weapons that she wields.
May bring your fall, make you yield.
To succeed you too must fail,
And with that, she can prevail.
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