She's not the little girl I use to know
you could feel how much she's grown
Not in physical appearance
but just in a way too complex to define
What she has been through one can't imagine
Hell is but a synonym
she's been chipped and discard
she's being tainted and etched with scars
But all of these didn't break her
Instead spark a growth inside
Now she's more perfect than she could imagine
It like she's more complete
She's a masterpiece
crafted from endurance and belief
Now she's free without judgement
The lady with simple but mysterious temperament
The lady called Victoria
Existence like her are hard to come by
©abraham_r
A