The consistant tremble of her pale ivory hands,
never sure of what'll be done tommorrow.
Never safe,
But not afraid.
She runs cold-blooded,
no stops.
They follow, 
with dogs on leash. 
Alongside rivers..
Around the corner.
She sees the fear;
The unknown,
The hidden.
Beauty in intelligance,
She's not one to unveil. 
Said to be dangerous,
That little Missy.
Not easy to catch,
But Not hard to run into. 
Living immortal,
It's not something to chase.
Yet she holds her hands from regret..