She runs to me,
she, my little princess.
Ripped of her innocence
so that she may become more glorious.
She WILL be glorious ...
she must.

Raised high above,
She is secure and innocent,
earnestly guarded ...
her guard is taken.
She is left unprotected and unstable ...
she falls.

She is capable of learning to adapt to life on the ground,
a ground unsuited for her ...
she unsuited for it.
They are most torturously intertwined
laced together in the most painful of ways ...
pain and suffering horribly joined with absolute necessity.

Her endurance, her strength, her unfailing determination,
will crown her glorious
raise her higher than she began.
For although she fell too early,
although her fall was undeserved
it was meant to be.

For now as she stands ever alone,
she is surrounded to those stongly bound to her by love.
All are focused on her,
her strength will shine,
fueled ... powered by them ...
yet doggedly independent.

She runs to me,
she, my little princess.
Ripped of her innocence
so that she may become more glorious.
She will be glorious ...
she MUST.