She's wearing a plait and a plain floral dress,
Her skin is so pale, and her fringe is a mess.
She can't link three words in the simpliest phrase,
And ignorance left dirty marks on her face.
Her look is so frightened, her thoughts are a dump,
She's shallow, naive, indecisive and numb.
She won't ever part with her old silver cross,
The symbol of nothing aside from her loss
Of I-do-create-my-own-destiny power.