There’s a home
In the woods
Of her mind
Where she goes
Somber girl
All alone
With the trees
Looking out
Grow to root
Soot her eyes
Branched as queen
With her crown
The cool dirt
Dark as black
Smells of fresh
Oxygen
She breathes deep:
“Don’t come near!
Be aware!”
Her voice Ri-
Ses Inside
Like a sprout
Like a being
Like a song
DON’T BE SCARED
Exhibition 1874 