Lost.

vile is her exterior
she shows to all
creeping to frighten
yet ever so demure

festing black debris surround her
pale white skin plays down her pretty
countenance of peace she emits
life of disarray and cold

deserted life and alleyway
her sanctuary of absent friends and family
oblivious, but purposefully, she is to the defect
it's obvious nothing is left

cul de sac are her eyes

lost in the serenity of her touch
lost in the song of her lullaby
lost in the calming of her lips
lost in the eternal peace of her desirable mind
lost in the alley, shes created.

lost.

in the alley, that created her.