across the roadway
dishwater blond hair surrounds her face like a dead forest,
falling limp around her large, down-turned eyes, signs that point down her deserted roadway cheeks
leading to a perpetually frowning, thin, mouth gas station
how can someone so young look as if they feel older than the earth?
and have skin thinner, in more ways than one, than a wispy sheet of ice shattered easily by a boot heel
her dry skin, her scars, scabs, sadness and heavy, heavy, chest heaving, sighs speak of years of pulling a very heavy weight
through a field, while trying to not harm a single blade of grass.
she is often in her room, wide eyed, yet sleeping, for 12, 14, 17 hours and yet she is always tired
she drinks lakes of water and is always dehydrated
she was very happy one time, but she can't remember it clearly
she rubs her sandpaper eyes and heaves another sigh