• Sitting, perched upon an empty desk
    Awaits a woman unlike the rest.
    She stares out into infinity,
    What she finds I cannot see.

    She’s the one, it’s her eyes
    That instantly makes me paralyzed.
    She vexes me and distorts my mind,
    There isn't one thing that she couldn't find.
    Her eyes, they are a shade of brown
    As if buried long beneath the ground.
    Her gaze, it is a soulless stare
    That even I at times can't bare.

    Yes she’s the one, the only one,
    Whose gaze can pale the rising sun.
    It's as if she knows deep inside,
    The secrets others wish to hide.
    She sees right through their faint facade
    The wretched thoughts and mistakes made.
    Our heart and soul's an open book
    The pages for her alone to look.

    Yes she’s the one, it’s her voice
    At who’s command can cease each noise.
    She smiles slightly and whispers a word,
    One who’s message is not meant to be heard.
    Yet still it is and people look
    In her direction to see who spoke.
    She curses the innocent, little voice,
    For their attention's now hers but not her choice.

    I see her sitting all alone,
    Her image reflects one of my own.
    She’s not that different from the norm,
    It’s just her decision not to conform.