its about deep secrets
its about thin crusts
about shoved off pieces
of her skin, which (by the way) rusts.
she likes being complicated
coz things bore when too simple
has an ego, thats inflated
like a green mushroom pimple.
crinkled, crumpled contradicting brain
sees constricted life with a dilated whim.
she looks like champagne covered in chains,
unscrewed and fragrant; and still filled upto the brim.
clearly, its all a trap
a whirlpool pulling her from inside
and there is nothing she can do
she doesn't wanna run and she just can't hide.
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