Who is this person staring back at me?
Her black hole eyes above a constellation of freckles just seem unfamiliar,
Her cherry red lips and purple under eyes,
She seems like a girl of winter.
Her right eye is kind of squinty, and her left brow arches that little bit more,
She looks like her insides are dying, and she seems to be clenching her not quite defined jaw.
Who is this stranger staring back at me?
Her brown, straw hair sits just past her shoulders that are pointed and slumped,
Her collarbones are not quite cutting and her spine looks slightly humped.
Her hands look strange and boney, her legs an awful sight,
Her stomach seems all lumpy, does she sleep on that at night?
Does she sleep at all? Her eyes look tired and dry,
Oh, ugly little stranger girl, I'd hate to see you cry.
Who is this stranger looking back at me, she seems to want to stay,
Who is that stranger staring, that changes slightly every day?
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
