Mocking in a sweet voice,
Head tilted to one side
And eyes childishly wide
As she discusses another's choice;
Honey on the upper lip
While she aids one pretend
Because if they knew, they'd bend
Under her truth that hits like a whip.
Though disturbing and made of fear,
She's the type most adore
With a grin and a foot in the door
To grab anything others find dear;
A ruined spirit in red dress
Who's to be found in bad moments,
Filling in the calm indents
To help one never confess.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoezjaA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.
