She jammed her pale hands into her pockets.
Silently hoping that no one noticed the red paint
It seeped through her white sleeves,
Creeping up her arms in splotches and lines.
She walked briskly,
Making eye contact only with the ground,
Who knew that patterns of grass could be so interesting?
She studied the blades...
Was she doing it for the attention?
Only God could be sure,
He was the only one Who knew.