She is the epitome of poetry

This poem has not mastered herself in literature,

Neither has read many grammar textbooks.

She doesn’t know how she looks.

It has not attended lecture and semantics to learn writing,

She writes with her own heart reciting.

This poem hasn’t won any gold medal,

She is rather a song of her own credal.

She is so insane that she forgets to put a full stop,

She always talks nonstop.

For she believes she can make a difference,

She demands not praise but reverence.

She is not pretty like those girls in the magazine,

She is a warrior, a queen,

Like no one has ever seen.

This poem doesn’t dance when you tell her to,

She dances when she is happy,

Like a fairy dancing in the morning dew.

This poem is about a girl,

Who does not have flawless skin.

Rather has pimples on her face and chin.

She doesn’t even have a zero figure,

But is brave and has a heart full of vigour.

She doesn’t even have a tiny waist for a man’s gaze,

But has eyes that have dreams to chase.

This poem stops to beat any knobhead who tells her she has perfect curves,

She holds him by his collar and gives him what he deserves.

Tells him that her curves are made of iron and steel,

She knows when to rest and when to turn up her zeal.

This poem doesn’t know fancy words and metaphors,

But has read Galibi’s poetry for sure.

This poem is messy and has a clean heart,

She is an imperfect version of a great art.

She is an ocean of dreams,

Like rivers running through the rocks into streams.

The poem is a girl,

Who wants to fly,

She wants to paint the world and own the sky.

She is learning to accept herself,

to be true and honest to oneself,

To be your own elf.

This poem wants to written in a sonnet, a prose,

Foe she knows.

She can be whatever she wishes to be,

She is wanderer and wants to be free

And,

This poem wants you to know that so can you,

Make whatever you desire to come true.

-Hridya