I love bows in my hair.
They are the essence of my youth.
I wear my lips glossed and right-side up, but sometimes I still brood.
I love my heels high so my fingers can brush the sky.
I'll give you all of me but never leave you high.
I hate anything charming, and flatters are really devils hiding behind a sparkling smile.

If I could leave a legacy—
if I had a lore—
I hope that it is all of my best and worst moments and the boy I loved most.
I hope the onlookers and my kith and kin
know that I finally had a life where I don't find tears pretty anymore.
For I’ve shed enough to write a 200-page novel.
As beautifully deranged as I can be,
I hope you remember much of the heart that never hesitated to bleed.