The neck fell forward,
With a snap of a head back
-A revolving slouch-
Drowsiness overwhelms with yawns.
Yet just next to a
Broad pot,
A "bless you" tissue,
The beaming sun,
Sat a shaking girl.
She slams, and sells her thoughts.
With unbelievable clothes that
Find or lose her skin.
Slitted piercing eyes stare
And waver with unassurance.
Normally she sits,
Twisting her hair in knots,
And furling her toes
That bleeds scratches into the souls.
Or wringing her head,
In constant jerks,
To stop the voices of words.
Whispers crawl the walls,
Mumbling nonsense of
What the halls had spread.
Panic overwhelms,
And all she wants to be
Is focused.
Just to focus,
On a hand
Pointing at words.
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