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They’ll call you soft, too odd, too bright…
They’ll squint at your colors and fear your light.
But when this world is gray and blind,
It’s you who sees with the ancient mind.
Oh, little strange, don't shrink, don’t bend,
You’re the start of stories that never end.
They can’t box magic, or tame the wild,
Can’t outgrow the truth in a laughing child.
So stitch the stars into your coat,
Write dreams in the air like a fairy note.
Little strange, you’re the secret song…
The one I’ve needed all along.
A young woman stands gracefully in a vibrant garden, wearing a sparkling green gown adorned with flowers. Ethereal butterfly wings, tinted in soft hues, enhance her enchanting appearance.