'like a withering flower that grows in a solitude arctic hamlet, dies in winter's chill; she's a delicate, sweet scented goddess of north. beautiful, adored, yet short-lived and lonesome if she dares not to conform to the will of others, nor beg to the lords. eagerly surviving, seeking for companion as she tries to suppress her heart to gradually freeze and face death!--' well, that's probably what most of them ponders and expect as a denouement; a horrible resolution of all disputes to a woman's life, however often seen peaceful.
stubborn as i might seem to be in some narrow-minded folks, my pleasure is to rephrase what's written within their brains.
women can turn their frozen, broken hearts into a tapered tip piece; made to bring curse to those who'll get to receive its nip as they played with it. she ain't no delicate flower that only grows to satisfy the needs of lustful eyes and greedy hands. her strength and love for her own soul, allows her to live and lingers in a world she desires, whether she's alone nor with someone she loves.
life for women doesn't solely evolved in such cliché chronicles linked within everyone's thoughts. no matter what, when, nor where, a woman is able to do whatever she's determined to do. never build conclusions to how she'll end up. some women are complicated enough to mess with your mind. easy to read she may appear, nevertheless, she's got something more you ought not to intervene inside her.
