She is a working process, a poem undefined,
A canvas of thoughts, constantly redesigned.
With each passing moment, she evolves and grows,
A tapestry of emotions, a story that flows.

Her words are like brush strokes, painting her soul,
Expressing her dreams, making her whole.
She weaves through the verses, exploring her mind,
Seeking truth and meaning, the treasures she’ll find.

In the rhythm of life, she finds her own beat,
Crafting her narrative, with words that compete.
Her stanzas dance freely, in sync with her heart,
Unveiling her essence, a true work of art.

She embraces the chaos, the tangled unknown,
For within the uncertainty, her brilliance is shown.
Her lines intertwine, in intricate design,
A symphony of thoughts, profound and divine.

She molds metaphors, like clay in her hand,
Sculpting her identity, as only she can.
She’s not just a poem, she’s an unfinished tale,
An ongoing process, destined to prevail.

With every revision, she discovers her voice,
Unleashing her power, making her choice.
She bares her vulnerabilities, without fear or shame,
For vulnerability is where true strength came.

So let her unravel, in verses untamed,
A masterpiece in progress, not to be named.
For she is a working process, a poem alive,
Constantly transforming, as long as she strives.