She is the sound doves make when they cry.
She likes her pizza cold
and her hair long.
She likes to dance alone
to music so loud.
Her prayers are deep;
Her anger--enlightened.
She laughs like she crys,
but her tears boil.
X-rays show her skeleton made of steel,
But the rest of her is water.
You'll never catch her because
Men's hands turn her to gold dust. |
Submission Name: Gold Dust
