I was once compared somewhat to a queen, equipped with eyes of hazel to burn extreme; holes in the soul of another whom is cold to me.
I was mean't to be born on a cloud, sprouting wings at a young age observing their growth, until I took flight onto the earth.
If anyone should know their future it should be me; so i could pick out my own compatibility, and waste no days washing the hands of time.
If there were no responsibilities I would only sprout babies, and find a lover keen and knowledgeable to bask in the sun, drinking red wine until our loins went numb.
If I was immortal I would tell everyone who ever lived, to respect diligence, intelligence and to carry flavor; their own essences never to waiver.
But when I die I shall call on, seeds of daisies to grow up round my hair, And you shall know where to find me there.