she

Who is she
that saving be her need,
though these streets she sees,
heed nothing of her;
she'll die,
to save them;
the curious,
who question,
then abuse
the chastity she so freely gives
but fail to believe,
who she is.
what irony,
this identity crisis,
that a savior need saving;
what noble ignorance
guides the blind,
persistent to ignore who for what,
in distress but why
is known by them that know
as they abandon life
for hope
of her.

~Deus fortuno

if

If she is to glance at you by grace, she may
If she is to vanish at no trace, she might
If she is to strip herself of hope at no regard for modesty
as bare before barren beggars, she can
If she is to lie with liars, purity to embrace, whose to say,
for such things must be that any wish exist
If she is to believe her being
then being is her belief
that she is she
and no other she could be
surely this she is
yet only if.

~Deus fortuno