Flip Flops In February

It will take a very specific person to unlock the complexity of her mind

And to understand every facet of her being

The knowledge trapped behind her glassy eyes is seen only through knowing glances

Heard only through words whispered in hushed tones

She is a puzzle

A map that is almost impossible to navigate

Her personality is constantly changing like the trees in autumn

Underestimate her

And she will become a mere memory

A fleeting moment

A passing thought long gone before any judgement is allowed to be passed on her

She doesn’t make sense

Like flip flops in February

Her body feeds off of human interaction and yet is content quietly observing

On paper

She appears mediocre

In reality

She is a hurricane

The walking, talking embodiment of a hypocritical statement

Her spit-fire nature requires a chase

An inexhaustible need to be challenged

She is an unlit match

Waiting to start a fire

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