She was really shaken up man,
That familiar look you see in war photos,
Victims of crime wide eyed and bona fide,
Terror,
From the dirt on her cheek,
I could tell that she had just come,
From a hard dirt place,
Live cement; turpentine sick,
Her skin was greyshade and taut,
Stretched of the bone like a funeral drum,
Where she came from the sun must've shone silver,

I didn't have the heart to tell her,
The world that she found herself in now was,
In a different level all that it could be,
Considered even faker,
Cracked plastic benches with particle board lampposts,
Overhead the sky looks too far to be real,
To touch such beauty will turn mad madder,
Here, Where patriotic citizens keep to stoic sublimity,
Boy was her skin pale.

I saw that her soul was screaming,
Streaming overhead was a brilliant flash,
Something important was hung in the air,
Pungent renaissance, well needed,
Deserved to be debated,
But NEVERTHELESS!
Paw prints were in the snow behind us,
As we made our way through the deaf crowd,
They stood dumbfounded at our audacity.