A Peculiar Person

There was a person. We simply knew her by her name, and her status. She was friends with the entire school Known for her beauty and her poise. Anyone would want to be her friend. But when the sun sets, And the ants dispersed from the drop of sugar syrup, She was rather Peculiar. She’d start pulling her hairs out, Grow fangs when she smells bad blood, Cook her hair in the depths of her mouth, And more importantly She would turn into some… Unknown creature. I’m not saying that’s what exactly happened, Though we thought so in the beginning. But she’d start a tsunami if she saw a towel land on the floor. She would turn cannibalistic if she found out she’d been betrayed. She would crunch on her hair just to pacify her nerves. And she became a peculiar person, When the coast was clear. Til’ this day, I still wonder if the situation was ‘Peculiar’ or ‘Pretty Clear’ a sign of something we would never know of completely. Was it a missed call for help? Was it a silenced yelp?