She’d love nothing more than to put down Roots.
But this kind of girl wanted to be forever moving.
She never could reach the destinations at the ends of routes.
She’d start down one, but instead of finishing, she’d eventually start disapproving.
She’d love nothing more than to belong somewhere great.
But this kind of girl knew nothing about herself.
She had a heart; she just never followed through like a fucking degenerate.
She’d forgotten to practice to love life, one must first love thyself.
She’d love nothing more than to learn who she was.
But this kind of girl was so lost, it was tough.
She took one look at the pack of wolves and hid like a Chihuahua.
She’d always cut into steaks just to say her food was too tuff.
The young girl didn’t know how to persevere.
Something had to show her to stand strong even when things get severe.