"She is a girl, made of the wind"
That's what they said, when I was born
"She will talk to the raindrops,
to the leaves and to the corn."

I grew up in scarred arms,
I am a child, just getting older.
The world around me fell into darkness,
it became heartless and slowly colder.

So, I decided to use my strength,
what was put in my cradle.
The bird with the broken wings,
I fought until it finally faded.

I took a feather and I wrote,
so, my wings could grow again.
Not like a bird or an angel,
More like a bat with dragon skin.

I'll write about the strongest wolves,
Black bones and paws, blood red eyes.
I'll write about their deadly desires,
about their teeth, sharp like knives.

I will write about the horses,
running over the green meadows.
Indomitable, wild, and free,
one with the forest and the shadows.

I will write about a dragon,
King over the northern lights.
He will be my silver leader,
through thousand days and thousand nights.

I will write about a castle,
built on a lost and dead dream.
The story of many tragic deaths,
The tale of a broken queen.

I will write about a river,
the floods filled with shards.
Sometimes blood is in the water,
When some soul was ripped apart.

I will write about the mirrors,
one after one destroyed by the queen.
I will write about the children
and their golden cemetery.

So, yes, I'm talking to the raindrops,
to the leaves and to the corn.
I won't be ashamed of this,
I'll heal the scars, in which I was born.