Fit for a queen.

I remember when the average height determined fate, how productive you were, and how early or late. May love outgrew itself,  abandoned like a mine, days of rain they don't depend, on the sun in order to shine.  I havnt yet met the one forever,  before me the feathers fall, as I listen to the winds of time, their love and how they call. Maybe my direction was not only you, in a chosen path or road, but for love it's some lesser known reason,  to carry the load. So I build my barriers out of water mud and sticks, because behind every foundation laid are rows of cold concrete and hard working bricks.  But I've never been the average,  the height of me it should not matter,  just because I know myself,  that all hearts break or shatter.  Since I've recovered from broken,  the shards glued and etched between.  I rebuilt my own kingdom,  fit for a queen.