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Her fair skin was red and bumpy,

Bruised and cold.

Her fair hair was damp and muddy,

Filled with grey chunks of dirt.

Walking home though, she was smiling,

Full of with ridiculous unimaginable joy.

For she fought IT!

IT beat her down,

IT broke her heart.                        

IT was nasty and cruel -

The very definition of tangible, undesirable dolor.

But with the advice of one,

She heard the words,


 Just by listening, by breathing in,

She confronted IT.

They smacked and slapped; she struggled

IT raggedly ripped and boldly bent her,

Breaking her;

Broke her.

But she whispered smooth,

Without the strength to whisper


And in that very normal, average expected tomorrow,

She beat that inner feud

And never doubted her fair strength ever again.