She hides beneath pages of poetry.
Hoping no one will see the nightmare that is her reality.
Her words slither into your ears.
To hear is to be near.
To be near is to fear.
For when you look upon her.
A chance so rare one must dare.
A glimpse of pure beauty.
If she is looking at thee,
Then a great monstrosity is the last thing you will ever see
Before she slithers beneath the pages of her poetry.