Laudice Rowcetts

Wears bright pink lipstick
Over thinly pursed lips
Her skin hangs loosely
Over jagged wrists and finger tips

Her face is pale
Her eyes are dark
She moves with purpose
Like a killer shark

Her tongue is sharp
Her demeanour cold
The wrinkles are deep
She’s a thousand years old

She’s perfected a walk
That is so smooth
Her head won’t bob
Her feet won’t move

As if she is floating
From point A to point B
She appears in silence
Right next to me

Her ghostly figure
With a sulphur smell
Puts me on edge
I think she’s from hell

She scares me, she does
Like no-one before
She is evil, malevolent
Right to the core.