Like a wandering thought,
Plucked out of perdition
Uprooted,
Not maimed.

She ran around in circles,
Bare bodied.
With mind full of
Resonating sound.

Wasted not wanting
She lied through
Aching teeth
Scratching her wounds
To feel damp blood
Paint her remnants.

Hiding midst shadows
Wired in his manliness
She colored shades
Of grey
To match happiness

But suddenly
It was not what she wanted.
The wandering thought
Slowly gone astray.

-

Call it nonchalance if you please.
She just tied open her hair.
Let it flow.
And ran into herself, at the break of dawn.
She forgot who she was.
Now she will find herself.
This time, she'll do it all alone.