Dark bows perch at the top of her head
and chipped fingernails dig into the flesh of her thigh
Grit teeth make her jaw hurt
her anger can only be subdued this way
she is seduced by dark rooms and running away from responsibility
She is adorned with rusted chains
to wrap herself warm
she is a maze
one they use to test mice in
with failed experiments
written all over her
cracks in her armor
chunks of iron and steel removed from her chest plate
how does she smile
with those drained light bulbs she call teeth?
how does she breathe?
with those two furnaces she calls lungs?
how does she see sunlight and act like it hasn’t burnt?
like she isn’t scalded by the snooze of her alarm lock?
the short answer?
the long answer?
she is reaching toward the horizons like they have some soft of symbolic meaning
like they are telling her she’s atlas
holding the weight of the sky on her shoulders
she is just a tangle of thorn bushes that hasn’t learned that the pricks of her thorns hurt others also.