I admire your level of maturity.
Even the way you bend under pressure.
You are solidified, forged in fire.
You are the strongest sword.
Yet, you are weak.
Under the same pressure, you crack.
You break into a thousand pieces.
Carried away by the wind.
I admire the way your head is held high.
Yet, it stoops low as you retreat into darkness.
You venture away, concealed by your emotions.
I admire your vulnerability.
Yet, you are fragile.
And I admire you for that.