Pomegranates and constellations

I’ve lived on years and years where people ridiculed me because of my freckles and pomegranate colored hair. The way my leg length discrepancy cause me to limp like a dog that just escaped  from an angry animal  that has been chasing it for miles. But I'm grateful for my mother. She made me solemnly swear, “I Roisin Roone, vow to never be brought  down of the irrelevant opinions of people”. I inherited most of my mother traits, as I've heard. The red hair that looked like a beautiful rose. Her freckles like a bright constellation in the sky.However there's one thing I know that I can never inherit. It's not even something that can be inherited. Her passive attitude. It is like a fragile glass that's even harder to break than it is to break a rock. She tunes out all the negative comments as if there was cotton in her ear. She doesn't give a care in the universe about the bad criticism of individuals. She doesn't shatter to pieces like a glass.she reminds me of the trees in my backyard.They had poisonous berries on them. They stood there planted in the ground as they watch you eat their poisonous berries without yelling “Don't eat that”. The insects that crawled and stomped all over its coffee brown bark, but what does the tree do.Nothing. The tree looked old as if it had been through war and was relieved to get out the dangerous battlefield.