She Has A Bookshelf For Heart

They say she is just like the snow,

Innocently pale, beautiful but cold. 

She is a wildflower in the crack, 

Tough enough for storms yet tender to hold

She has a bookshelf for her heart, 

The ink flowed through her veins. 

She writes you into her stories, 

With soft patters of rain...

She's more of a burning fire 

Like millions of stars stuck in space, 

Waiting to be discovered, 

With arms stretched for a warm embrace.

She isn't the right to all wrongs, 

Neither is she a pain. 

For all of you who know 

The veracious trail to win.