He looked at her, Her hands were caked with black inks, Filled with words she will never utter through her mouth, How effortlessly she twists her hair into messy bun, How she never ever wears make-up, Daring enough not to conceal her beautiful imperfections, How she clung books tightly to her chest, Like a shield defensing her, And how she walks confidently, yet stares on the ground afraid to have any eye contact, I can't help but get attracted more and more by her quirkiness, Every ******* time she passes by me.