Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them.

The monsters were neverunder my bed.Because the monsterswere inside my head.I fear no monsters,for no monsters I see.Because all this timethe monster has been me.

We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains. 93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames, we are all just stars that have people names.

She is alone.And ohhow brilliantly she shines.

We are the bloodof the witches you thought were dead.We carry witchcraft in our boneswhilst magic still singsinside out heads.When the witch huntersimprisoned out ancestorswhen they tried to burn the magic away.Someone should havewarned themthat magic cannot be tamed.Because you cannot burn away what has alwaysbeen aflame.

The saddest wordin the whole wide worldis the word almost.He was almost in love.She was almost good for him.He almost stopped her.She almost waited.He almost lived.They almost made it.

The thing I admire mostabout youis no matter how hard,or how much the worldhas tried tobeat you,break you,destroy you,and throw you to the wolvesyou are still here,turning all your painall your sufferinginto armor,into determination,into weaponsand earning the respectof that same pack of wolvesthat were meant to rip youlimb from limb.

I am the girl who spends hours huddled in a corner of a library, trying to find what you love the most about Marlowe, just so I can write you a poem worthy of Shakespeare. I've made books my lovers, hours my enemies and you the only story.

Don't let a kingor a princeor a fairytaletell you you are smaller than that or who you are meant to be.