“One, alone, single, unattached, still, standing strong, solo, nobody follow” Gun Roswell
One pretty thing
From the darkest of the dominating shadows, rising through the cracks as the thin rays of light it follows, finding finally a way towards the lights even if it had been a long and difficult struggle. As nowhere to turn to for help, only with its own self preservation and wit, did it manage to survive the harshness of said darkness, where the lesser ones would have called out yelp in the overall process. But surely as the day is filled with the sun and the night is lit with the moon and the stars, this tiny pretty thing, managed its way through the small cracks to twinge. And now, standing proud and tall, despite the delicate frame, it will never be the same for this courageous and feisty flower, as now it finally had its taste of power. Blooming against and over all the odds, who had tried and taken their evil shots, trying to suffocate the one, redeemed to become nothing and none as there were others more deserving, more pretty, more of everything the tiny thing was not. But now, here it is, standing pretty over those who never it chose. But it does not care about them odds, not anymore, as it scored, big time, hovering, even towering over them all.