Always late,
It was determined by fate
That she'd always lack behind.
Regardless of the place,
She's unable to keep the pace
Others set; she begins to mind.
Always absent,
She never understood what it meant
To come into an empty room;
Five minutes ago, the bell rung,
Yet her coat wasn't yet even hung.
Maybe this'll be her doom.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoesíaA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.
