Curiously shallow eyes
a lucid yet startling green
devoid of lies
glazed over, a blank sheen
there rises waves of tresses
an unruly mass
a pallid forehead it addresses
irregularly hacked by an uncaring hand, the color of brass
her soft pale body
vacant arms
her full lips
muttering in alarm
she stares up at you
twitching her nose
in return to your quest
her name is Rose
so it says on the inside of her arm
slashed in jagged font
a tattoo of a black rose
snakes up her wrist, to flaunt
she puts her hand
on the soft white walls
she switches on the radio
hears the economy fall
she has everything she loves
listening to people killing each other and how
she grins to herself
who’s loony now?
