She was tired of relenting about the pain at heart
It hurt.
Her heart, the pond of gold ached like that gum desperate to spit a tooth
She, was a feather trying to stand in the storm,
Light like the tears always rolling down her bluffy cheeks
and delicate like the little self strained in her tired mind
Her mind was the Fisher’s like filled with depression
as pain always clouded her little world with sorrow extreme
Her back always faced the mirror, for she couldn’t bare having a glance at her broken self
But it is through that brokenness that light was able to illuminate her soul
mutesi Patience 
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