EvelinRoshe

Your look, little one, is a deep sigh, your eyes that do not scream but see everything. Under the shadow of your short hair, thoughts are hidden that the world does not know. Shyness is your clothing, but in it a quiet force is hidden, like the river that runs without noise, like the moon that shines without being seen. Your white skin is the canvas of stories, of moments that only you understand. Every tattoo on your body, It's a poem that your soul writes in silence. The piercing, that flash on your face, It gives you a rebellious, subtle air, but in your gestures you keep calm, a secret refuge, so fragile, so vile. Maybe the world doesn't see what's inside you, what your hands keep, what your chest whispers, but I see you, so immense in your stillness, so full of life, so full of beauty. You don't need to speak to be heard, you don't need to scream to be strong. Your presence is a soft murmur, but it is the echo of a brave soul.

Your look, little one, is a deep sigh, your eyes that don't scream but see everything. In the shadow of your short hair, thoughts are hidden that the world doesn't know. Shyness is your garment, but within it is a quiet force, like the river that flows without noise, like the moon that shines without being seen. Your white skin is the canvas of stories, of moments that only you understand. Every tattoo on your body, it's a poem your soul writes in silence. The piercing, that flash on your face, It gives you a rebellious and subtle look, but in your gestures you remain calm, a secret refuge, so fragile, so vile. Maybe the world doesn't see what's in you, what your hands keep, what your chest murmurs, but I see you, so immense in your silence, so full of life, so full of beauty. You don't need to speak to be heard, You don't need to shout to be strong. Your presence is a soft whisper, but it's the echo of a brave soul.

Your look, little one, is a deep sigh, your eyes that don't scream but see everything. Under the shadow of your short hair, thoughts are hidden that the world doesn't know. Shyness is your clothing, but in it is hidden a silent strength, like the river that flows without noise, like the moon that shines without being looked at. Your white skin is the canvas of stories, of moments that only you understand. Every tattoo on your body, is a poem that your soul writes in silence. The piercing, that flash on your face, gives you a rebellious air, subtle, but in your gestures you keep calm, a secret refuge, so fragile, so vile. Maybe the world doesn't see what's inside you, what your hands hold, what your chest whispers, but I see you, so immense in your stillness, so full of life, so full of beauty.. You don't need to talk to be heard, you don't need to scream to be strong. Your presence is a soft murmur, but it's the echo of a brave soul.

Your eyes, tiny in their gaze, keep a world of silent secrets, a reflection of the depths, of the silent soul, and of dreams, not yet told. The two stars, which are both in the same direction, are seen as two separate stars, each with its own light, which is reflected in the sky. Short hair, like a whisper in the wind, adapts to your being without making a sound, but a vast feeling resides in it, like a calm, but determined river.

Your eyes, tiny in their gaze, keep a world of silent secrets, reflection of the depths, the silent soul, and the dreams, not yet told. Your pupils, like two distant stars, look at the world with a curious calm, hiding in its corner the light that emanates from it, the shyness that hides in your soul. Short hair, like a whisper in the wind, adapts to your being without emitting sound, but in it resides a vast feeling, like a quiet, but determined river.

Your eyes, tiny in their eyes, They keep a world of quiet secrets, a reflection of the depths, of the silent soul, and of dreams, not yet spoken. Your pupils, like two distant stars, They look at the world with a curious calm, hiding in its corner the light that emanates from it, the shyness that hides in your soul. Short hair, like a whisper in the wind, It adapts to your being without making noise, but a vast feeling resides in it, like a calm, but determined river.