She has this air
that she doesn't care
That she doesn't give a ****
Not. One. Bit.
You'd think of her shallow.
All marsh but no mallow
But that's not the case
Its written on her face
In the small movement of her lips
And the small vocal slips
When her voice stumbles over words
And she hits melancholy chords
Big smiles that don't quite reach her eyes
I can see through her guise
Because normality
Is only a formality