She went down by the Robert River one night and figured it all to have been a behemoth mess – these eerily inescapable things begging to occur against her every single will
Still waters run thickeningly and she’s about to be taken carelessly, mindfully, cataclysmically asunder
She places upon these midnight pebbles breathing deep beneath her two favourite fairytales of physical shape – which take to shimmer notoriously bright, albeit disintegrate nonetheless
A lock and an enchanting key
Rather knowingly loaned to her via a life gone sadly, distastefully, all traits of agonisingly awry
Haphazardly breached her particular surface, it did
She grasps on tight to the latter of which and falls right away
Finally, fair thankfully of that above anything else in the whole torn universe
And breathes again for the very first time

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