People can't stand her sight.
With a groovy face and a flappy skin
propped up by a thin frame-like curtain of life
she walks the streets at odd times.
Dusty myths gather around her existence.
Journeys start over
when someone spots her in sight.
They rush inside, to avoid
all ill luck in their path.
No chances are taken.
Like an innocent child from bad influences
she is kept away, from anything living.
Her identities dissolve, one by one
like her bones
and she grows backwards, into nothing.