I never quite understood why it was that no one loved her,
or at least, they didn’t love her like I did.
I never understood why no one else saw the way her hair shone brighter than the stars or the way her eyes gleamed like
the most precious emeralds.
I never understood why no one else saw that it was her chaos that made her beautiful,
it was the flame that burned within.
I never understood why she wasn’t worshipped like the true celestial empress that she was,
stronger than any man.
I never understood why no one seemed to see that her soul was far too deep to be explored by those
afraid to take their feet from solid ground.
I never understood why it wasn’t noticed that she was far too full of life to be simply half-ignored, half-noticed,
half loved.
I never understood why they didn’t see that she wasn’t fragile like a flower, she was fragile like a grenade,
she was to be treated with the upmost respect.
I never understood why it wasn’t seen that she was made for far more beautiful things and that
chaos is only understood by the wild, not the weak.
Only now do I see it,
she was poetry.
She was poetry in a world that was still learning the alphabet.