Mind like an acrobat
She sways precariously back
and forth with the constant influx of travelers
Who never seem to stay more than a night
Part with their cynical phrases
And compare her to a trapeze

She is the calico feline that hides
In the woodpile for fear of being known
The nights have long since turned frigid
The aroma of death
Is what gives her away
Too late now to be saved

Imperfections in the sky
Draw weary eyes to gaze upon them
Amplified in the freckles on her face
Pinpricks on the vast unknown
Flaming ***** of unfathomable chaos
Look like stars to the naked eye