If you've been keeping up with my poems, this style is not one I try very often. So this poem is a test-run...it was neat to try more of a beat-nik style. Don't judge me too harshly.


Lives in a house of Brick
Not of straw and not stick


Stricken with pain
she bends and she breaks
down the door you have made

to keep it all out.


Out from your house;
Your four cornered life
Wall-papered with strife


She sees what she wants,
Years of work destroyed
Like a child running free
In a paper mache mine field
Her smile embedded in the upholstery.


She skips down the road
Red-hooded: the code
Looking for her next victim.


No one suspects the girl.