She isn't loud,
but her silence has chapters.
Ink-stained fingers,
heart full of unsaid laughter.
A school uniform,
dreams stitched like couture—
one day the world will wear
what she imagines in her room.
She feels deeply,
even when she pretends she doesn't care,
turns pain into poetry
and hides courage in her stare.
Friends feel like constellations,
some real, some just light,
some fade with time,
some stay through every night.
She believes in love,
but not blindly, not weak—
she waits for eyes that listen
when her own can't speak.
If you ever find her quiet,
lost in words, alone—
know she's building a universe
where she finally feels at home.
Because she's not just a girl,
she's a story in bloom.
She writes,
and the world makes room. 💫
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