Ugly, rainy day
Some say they don’t understand me
Funny, my writing never intended to be

With her head down;
Hair draped in your face and eyeliner smudged
Disregard the ugly rainy day and who may wonder
Of the girl walking across the border

A plastic bag on her wrist
It slowly spins as her leg hits it
Spinning and spinning
Her feet keeps pounding
World obscured, but from a shock of hair

Flowery and awkward they said
Sorry; though she isn’t really
My writing never intended to be

Her legs’ sore and bends funny
Threatens to give out beneath her
Twitching as if she were an epileptic
Knocking her bag aside in swirls

Her head bent low
She is neither sad nor angry
She is fine
As of the moment; yes
Until her nose burns and stings
From the rising gutters-

On the downhill slope
Her knees jitter and springs
Backwards the net force of the ground
It’s tight, and twirling
And she’s gone

Twisting and whirling it grasps you
Abound on her wrist
She feels for her pocket
The bag chokes her hand
So tightly its become
Yet you’ve never noticed till now
Of the immediate pain;
The remedy at hand

She’s about to be home
But of course
When the world is lost
So are your keys