She sees things of beauty in all that she see And what's beautiful to her seems ugly to me What to her is a flower to me is a weed We do seem so different so different indeed.
The window of her soul is open to light She always seems happy and bubbly and bright And her type of person a pleasure to know For beauty goes with her where-ever she go.
Of those who are different good things she does say And for to help out others she goes out of her way She helps out the homeless and those in dire poverty I do not know of anyone as great as she.
And sad to think her type are becoming more rare For the poor and downtrodden she genuinely does care To the most worthy causes her work free time she devote Yet she is not seen as one worthy of note.
A beautiful person with a heart of gold And surely her story deserves to be told Not proud of her beauty and free of conceit And people like her one does not often meet.
I have overpowered the silver lining with my bruised wings
I know the luster of the sunshine would heal me
My nest is almost on the verge of collapsing
I know my broken wings wouldn't give up
To gather the twigs again
My slashed wings ache when I fly
Yet I continue