She walks,
on the streets,
with a face that,
doesn't belong.
It smiles more than,
many put together,
whole day long.
Her heart misfit,
a little chipped.
And she likes to,
call it once broken,
but now stitched.

She is the force, that you end up
reading about in thick novels. She is
the kind of woman, you adore,
for being so content with messy hair.
She is the kind, who would
decline whatever the mankind would exalt-
and redesign everything that is
inclined to remind her
of how strongly, the society wants her confined.
To this girl, on a romantic date,
he asked the question inaccurate-
"Honey, why do you always take the road
that is so untold, hard and loathed?"
She thought of giving him a second chance,
and resisting any anger-loaded advance,
She replied, "Why do you speculate,
that I choose my fate,
imagining there are two roads?

Failure should be archived in head, not heart.

She is that maze,
the one you would love to chase.
She is the faith,
quite missing nowadays.
And her heart is a rave,
with hopeless barricades.
She is the one,
whose tears flow,
just as lavishly,
as her laughter roars!

Sometimes, getting comfortable with the circumstance is the only preparation you need to deal with it.

I was moving around with my imperfect, broken pieces until you came across and stitched my flaws with your words.