| Loner She turns away, she turns back, she looks at you, she looks adrift-- her life is going places, yes, right into a hole, right into a fire, right into her death. Well-worn paths down her cheeks, pitted, dried, and cold-- she knows how to live, yes, she can fall, she can cry, she can leave. She always leaves these situations when it seems her back is always bent, when it seems her heart is always cracked, when it seems she sees only herself, then adrift, only a reflection, only nothing. Creeping into herself, intent inside her curl, she watches her fingers tapping-- within her mind, yes, she can drop it, she can pick it up, she can let it go. She feels a hole, she doesn't try to fill it, she knows how much trouble she is, she wants to be considerate-- listen to her talk, yes, she can think, she can fake, she can act. Dancing down her way, limping on a whim, one could almost forget to care. |
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