A Girl Named Poetry

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A battlefield of painted words
Slicked all along her pale white skin
Tells a story we can't possibly understand

Her metaphors are flying off the canvas
Startlingly bright to our virgin eyes
Her fingers stroke the puddles of tar, blood, and lemonade
And she consumes the fumes of dyes

So simple, yet beautiful in her simplicity

But no--not simple--not at all, not really
Her long, tangled hair twists together, reaching all directions at once
Towards the heavens they soar, the color of soft baby blue
Then deep beneath the ground, underneath her bare feet
Burgundy strands somehow reaching the pits of Hell, and even beyond that!
Wavy, straight, curly, and thin
Chaotic and crazy and colorful
Oh, how her beauty sings to me!

Yet her expression...

Her eyes: blue, green, brown, hazel, and gold all at the same time
Her cheeks swirl with white, pink, and red color
Her entire face speaks of wisdom and experience of her untold story
Of impossible sadness and anger
Of heartbreaking, soul shaking happiness
Joy beyond the description of these mortal words
She has experienced all there is to experience
She has witnessed all there is to witness
Past, present, future; she has seen it all!

But nobody knows her depths...

She is unknown to us
For even when we take a dip in her foreign world
We never really understand her as she does us
Because she is beyond the reaching of our understanding
This girl, this woman, this child...is everything

And she is nothing at all.