The red headed left handed geist
Always in motion caught in a fear
If she could only let her hair down
Ever in motion to the wind
With a phonal delivery
Paralleling a Cusack
Always peering from the side of her glasses
Swiping the hair from her face
Mouth pursed somewhere between
A smile or a frown in place
What is this anxiety that plagues you
Why are you so closed to the outside world
Arms crossed in a way to hug and comfort yourself
Or is it a wall, a defense to repel the external
Closed off to cut off your own swath in the world
Always the first called upon
Always the first to leave
Filling your mind with knowledge
Is it to fill an empty heart
Or is this what makes you feel real
Somewhat less like the geist
To give you a foundation
To keep your back straight
And let you walk among and along
In the world of the real boys and girls