There's a world inside of her, 

which is hers alone. 

It's made up of

all the songs she's loved, 

all the tears she's cried, 

all the hair she's lost, 

all the scars she's carved into herself. 

There's a world inside of her - 

her tears turn into rivers, 

her dreams into clouds, 

Her hair into longitudes and latitudes - those no-longer-imaginary lines separating time zones across her. 

She's a world inside herself, 

Careening and curving into itself 

As she dances to tunes she alone can hear. 

She's a world inside herself

Decisions unexplained

A wet towel strewn across a bed

An aimless walk in an unknown city

An unpublished tale of a war fought between stick and stone

She's a world unto herself

A soriegn rule

A one-woman army

An empty barstool

With a working mike in front of it

She's of a world inside herself

Layers peeled off an onion

Concentric circles drawn to make a city larger than it expected to be

Flyovers hugging its extremities in an attempt to hold all the molecules together

She's a world inside herself

The hollow of a guitar without which this song would be 

hollow 

This world is

Nothing tangible

Nothing eligible

Nothing feared

Nothing lost

It spins on its own axis

With no sun to spin around

With no moon to spin around it

And there's a girl in the next room

Saving up coins to visit this world someday

She has a list of places she'd like to go

People she'd like to meet

Food she'd like to eat

If only someone would tell her

There's a world inside of her.