Self Portrait of a Stranger

May 23, 2008 - 21:53 PM PST

I can watch her from afar and know her inside;
You look at her long blonde hair
And her long pale arms and
That’s really all you see.

Only I know her lonely cries.
If you look closer, you see her vanity
Is measured in miles
And her self-assurance in minute drops.

You tell me she’s so quiet,
Not to mention insanely tall
And ask if I noticed her eyes are green, not blue.
Why, of course.

But when she finally opens up,
She’ll reveal her paranoia and her
Quirky adventures she gets herself into
In a fit of lost self-control.

You know how many times it took her
To get her license, perhaps,
But did you know why, that she’s afraid
Of driving, not to mention the world.

She’s a hypocrite, and is waiting for a
Perfect moment she knows will never come,
Her nightmares are only memories of the past
And she’s far more dramatic than her mother.

She’s lonely and haunted,
Overthinking everything, sheltered,
Vengeful and innocent,
And hates not having a plan.

Yet there’s more than you realize,
Past her delusional view of the world,
She’s always, always willing to talk

If you’re only willing to understand.