She, as in Epitome

She has drifted to the wayside

like so many other girls.

She is standing by the corner

screaming more, more, more.

There are candles by her door

they are waiting for a sign.

She has extra pockets in her drawers

she hides them all the time.

She stares at midnight-moonlight wondering

where to go

There isn't light enough,

so she screams

more.