I like how delicate you are from the outside but within you is rage that is comparable to the seven pits of hell.
I like how you smile and laugh with your friends while lightning bolts strike your heart and wound it.
I like how composed and calm you are even when a hurricane is at its peak inside your mind.
I like how perfectly imperfect you are and carry it all like art.
I like how broken and damaged your entity is but you boldly show your scars and claim them as warrior marks.
You are the truth I found in a valley of lies. A work of magic and art that I deciphered. Every time, I fall short of words to describe you. Everyday, you leave me baffled with your being.
I cannot put your being into words because there hasn’t been a word invented to describe a broken universe which is so rich in love and life. Maybe, one day I’ll find a word that is made for you or maybe there will be no word and you’ll always be a work of art.