Collage, mixed media work on paper.

'Cause I am not a winged fairy

From your fairy tale,

But a tigress in the wilderness,

Busy earning her stripes.

They won't tell you stories of me

'Cause they are terrified 

By the very idea of girls

 Being dangerously soothing.

They are used to pretty pretty

And not pretty fierce,

They have not gone through hell

Come out gloriously scarred.

They don't know what it is

To be a perfectly-put-together mess,

They don't know how  to love

A brutally loyal wanderess.

And when they gift you scented pink roses 

And a bejeweled cage, tell them you are,

The smell of Earth taking showers,

The touch of name-not-known flowers,

The taste of wild berries

The wind and the new books and old libraries.

How you can be an irresistible confusion, 

Exquisite imperfection.

And if they can't stand it and are gone,

Don't you worry. The Right One 

Will have the heart to love you

As A Beautiful Oxymoron.