June 18, 2014 by Sez
She isn’t who you think. That long, lean teen with defiant joy shining from her eyes, nearly hiding the fear. And what you think, is, if we’re honest, irrelevant. These words you sharpen like knives merely adhere to her like stickers on sold fruit: they serve no purpose except to irritate, to taint her sweetness with paper and glue, a pathetic attempt to claim credit for wild-grown beauty you can only dream of. Your silly labels can be peeled off gently enough to leave her skin intact, and they never were enough to obscure her. We know who she is.