Her paranoid eyes glance as if to say,
"Don't look at me."
She's put herself in a
box, framing what others are allowed to see--
She doesn't smile.
She keeps her head down.
Closed off and hidden
behind fragile glass she is less than safe.
Tall shadows fall on the street.
Buildings shoot to the sky--their white
faces dirty from smog and age.
The sun exposes their blemishes.
The night reveals their charm.
It is the city that pulses and
scrambles with life.
People haunt her. They smile,
eyes staring straight at her.
Even the noise of the city can't drown
She is known and like the buildings
she feels dirty, but can't hide her blemishes.
She chose this.
- Hannah Perry