Here is a little girl
With dark lashes
And eight-looped braids
Her limbs as
Thin and white as bone
She’s shivering in the cold
Of her thoughts a
surging, raging ocean, a dark horse.
Her face downturned violently,
As if she had no neck,
She swings with the breeze of
A thousand cold breaths
Her breast cold, as if
She hadn’t any heartbeat.

Here hangs a little girl
The subject of damnation by
A hundred harsh thoughts,
A thousand cold shoulders,
And the godless hell in which she resided.