she is the sound of exhaustion,
gritty palms and pulsating temples
to achieve a purpose that couldn’t
be any further
than the moon.
she has eyes made of gold
a mind shaped
from decayed abilities,
there is a wildness in her comfort
a grace in her grave.
she is unfiltered humor,
an obnoxious laugh
of blindingly refreshing hysteria.
she is the glitter in the gutter.
that accidental flower which blossomed
in between 2 gritty slabs of concrete
but stunning and lovely.
she is a sly grin,
a menacing yet graceful form
pushing through each disastrous situation
she is unquestioning.
so certain in her appeal
yet so subtle in her outreach.
yet, at ease