Frayed

threads

That thread she hardly hung on by?
Yes, that’s the same one she used to sew herself back together again.

Judge your perfection by someone else’s standards?
She doesn’t need to.

She owns every bump, bruise, misstep and shady dealing. Ask her. She’ll tell you. Hell, she’s practically an open book. She has her demons as we all do, but hers stoke the flames of the fire that has burned her to the ground. That Phoenix rises from the ashes every single time. Plumage ever more brilliant than the time before. The moment you choose to count her out? Regret will be your calling card.

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