Paradoxtrix 2

When I had a chance to meet her,
I conjectured from her style,
that she was raised and branded
in some furnace of the wild,
a troubled but bright-eyed spirit,
molded in the image of a child,
a nestling sort of entity
with a captivating smile.



Her face displayed the zodiac,
twelve signs in conjunction,
components of each element
in fierce competition,
a galaxy unto herself
and dare I fail to mention,
an ebon goddess of pulchritude,
demanding strict attention.



Her hair was twisted dreadlocks,
snaking pass her shoulders,
the movement of her bedroom eyes
were horizontal shutters,
though she held her head regally high
her feet were bogged down in gutters,
depression and low self-esteem,
were the weight of massive boulders.