She's a painting outta focus with no good sense of intention.She's authentic.She's a model of disaster with a heart of revolution.She's so innocent, but guilty's her plea.Everybody wants to save her from herself, they really want to save themselves.She's got the grace, of a tourist, with the charm of demolition.She's a poem without meter or rhyme a random design of a flower like a rose no one really knows.She's a master piece desreving restoration or condemnation time will tell us if she's a lifer or a decomposuer.She's the rose no one really knows