There is joy in every sea,
Yet joy is what she'll ever be
- though she's made of crashing waves,
For every smile she pays a fee.
Her heart painted on her face
Like a twisted kind of handmade lace
- honest, imperfect, wondrous,
Yet trapped in a saddened haze.
Kalla, no one sees through the glass,
I'm not convinced this day will ever pass.
The clock is stuck, time's in a loop,
You've been locked in your sea blue class.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoetryA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.
