Poetic Justice

Who am I?

I would call myself a damsel in distress,
But I would dare to say,
That I am the damsel who rescues herself.
I could compare myself to the day,
The sun that blinds the rest of the sky,
Heat that falls onto all the places,
The cold has never reached.
But I am also the night,
Not as bright as the stars and the moon,
But as meek as the midnight sky,
That dwells in darkness,
It would be empty without the ones,
Who lit it up.

I would call myself beautiful,
Not because of my eyes or my hair,
Or even my smile,
No,
I would call myself beautiful,
Because of my mind.
Where cherry trees blossom,
And flowers are integrated deep from their
Roots.

I would say I'm as soft as a feather,
Light and fragile,
Easy to be hurt,
And pure as the day.
But I would also say that I'm a stone,
Not a pebble or a diamond,
No,
The stones that live in the deserts,
Hard and unconquerable,
Staying untouched no matter the outcome.

I would say that Im a tree,
Wise and knowledgeable,
No matter it's age.
But then I would also call myself a rose,
Not because it's pretty,
But because it's so carefree and youthful.

I would call myself the sweetest daydream,
When I have a smile on my face,
And laughter spilling through my veins.
I would call myself the worst nightmare,
When I kick, scream and shout,
To make the world hear my timing efforts.

But more so,
I would call myself,
A bunch of aimless words strung together,
Some of them are perfect,
And others need to be discarded.
A work in progress,
But I guess my destiny,
Is to make a sentence with those words,
One that actually makes sense.