if you walk down the hall, you'll see her.
if you have eyes, they'll be drawn to her.
hair as red as flames
eyes like tempered amber
and a walk like a general
marching towards a war
that she knows she'll win.
no one crosses her.
sometimes she wishes they do
and something in her wants to lose just once
at something other than her broken home
and broken heart
but she never does.
people fear her, but she wants to be loved.
but everything she is
can't be contained
by that hall.
she is a woman, no, a hurricane, made of wrath and fire
desperately trying to maintain human form.
she's a bombshell, baby
and she can't be controlled.
