With withering wings she fly,
Yet, she reaches her sky.
People see the height,
But not the pain in the flight.
They want the fame,
But what is for her to gain?
For just being the puppet of their aims.
She forgot her favorite flower,
Yet, reaching for other' shower,
She's tired of walking on others' map.
She'll bring you fame,
But this time with her OWN NAME.
(Written by me)
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