Marisa White is a girl that has difficulty in describing herself. When asked too, she turns a bright red color and shrugs miserably, wondering what there could be to say that would describe all of herself. “Sure, “She says, “I could say things like, I really like ice cream, or something strange like, I have a hobby of cat training, and sure  it’s interesting, but it hardly accounts for the person that is me.”
She holds that the easiest way to present herself is through an alternative means.  She is a lover of poetry, and thinks that to get to know a person, you should read one of their works. Here is her poem, done quickly, about all the thing she enjoyed at that moment.
The gentleness of lightly punched keys,
which drift within the sound of wind swept rain,
cross sweetly here with withered glances,
as though to greet each other as the same

Brown flecked eyes and lolling tongue,
lie beneath uneasy feet,
which twist with fear of coming year,
as you dream,my beagle, of meat.

Whether tis just believed, or simply is,
I do not know nor care to,
But warmth beneath my heart erupt,
small comfort, i feel, is always due.

She blushes and hopes you like the poem, while shifting self consciously in her seat.  She hopes she says, you can get a glimpse of her through this.