Crystal waits, she is one of horses,
That dance to the magic of the rhythm,
At the carousel.
Though she dances, elegantly, yearning,
She is old of age unlike the other young mares bopping around her,
She is not like the other horses,
She is unique but ashamed of her uniqueness.
So long as she feels ashamed,
No one comes.
This is what humans feel ashamed or proud of in their lives,
Their personality or cultural background holding them back,
A game of tug of war.
Our uniqueness is who we are, no one perfect.
We ought to know that even if we envy, we cannot change our lives,
So we make each day count,
Do what makes you happy each and every single day and we forget about wishing to be someone else.