the scary in her skull isn't for anyone to comprehend
but on every rainy day
all these vacant souls gather in crowded corridors
holding her in place with their stares
but her eyes remain fixated on the ground.
her feet trace the tiles
hands half raised, ready for flight.
cut her open and feathers shall surround you both,
like a pillow fight occurrence,
waiting for the wind to ease escape
but angels without hopes and dreams do not grow wings.
"why do you walk in the rain smiling?"
oh, baby, I see you everyday drowning in your own ocean
the rain is a welcome distraction.
those shaking hands want to write about hitchcock's unfaithful lovers,
but this gloomy weather wanted a voice and a being
and she's happy to help.
