I asked her who she was
Whispering softly enough
The look on her face so toxic
She was wild chemical violence
Her hair was the color of copper
Her eyes were muddied water
Her skin was dark, red and brown
And on her head there lay a crown

Her crown was not made of gold,
Nor silver, rubies, roses or thorns
Her crown was made up of whispered words
Painful, grievous, frightening birds
They were difficult, confusing to read
They shifted, morphed, continued to bleed
Her plea was anguished, muted silence
Her plea a distorted, blackened cadence

I asked her who she was
Her hair the color of copper
Her eyes like muddied water
And she smiled at me because
She had nothing left to answer
So I set down my broken mirror
Because I didn't want to see her