Medusa's Gaze

Her hair, long and wild Lively little snakes that roam about In an field of wool. Her feet dragged with the slither of sole against concrete. A decree made from tiring disposition. Her stare often held memories. The faces of others whom stared back at her. They often passed her by. A window seat, Sitting at one restaurant or another. Aware of their lack of empathy  She'd quite often stare. Often casting a spell of self regret. Wallowing in thought. A lone pattern of thoughts trailed by the essence of an empty room that shortly awaited her arrival. An appearance not easily accepted By those whom passed by. She'd order a meal along with an drink. Questioning the string theory of life. Until one day, the waiter who'd normally take her order stopped and said "Hey! I like your dreadlocks!"