the crowd goes quiet.
they have formed a circle around her,
the girl with the brown eyes
and bee in her bonnet.
she's standing like a hero,
which is bold of her,
considering the noticeable lack
of any apparent skill
or an ass-kicking outfit.
at the opposite end of the circle,
on the other side of infinity,
her final boss
squats,
sneers,
spits at her feet,
shoves its hands deep enough in its pockets to hide them.
she notices, she speaks.
"well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions."
YOU ARE READING
Lonely Thoughts
Poetry~technically, every day is leg day when you're running away from your problems~ ((alternatively titled: please enjoy my laughable poetry.))
