A wax worked version of her singular self, a breathing, living, eyes wide opened magical necessity carried by legs-eleven adultery

Her illustrious mind had in fact an incandescent way of making deliciously stood upright and magically reconfigured and descriptive mountains out of misshapen and lacking-in-imagination ant-hills – a self-permitted adolescent genius with wound-up words for her righteous weaponry and, needless to admit, it’s all of it been a library-filled whirlwind installation of a rather paper-aeroplane’d existence

A whole wide world shall kneel beneath a lit and flickering candle every single cherished aside contagiously carefree evening and continue to whisper at one another the enveloped words which she spoke so highly of

And at delicate, dedicated and brave-faced pace
Gilded and dutifully invisible she sits silent and alone now, with only her settled self for comfortable company and eerily supported by an undeniable amalgamation of steeped and staired adequacy, wherein a treasured building breathes to feed by the wanderlust construction of the inner-workings of the fantastically fabricated mind

When one girl books her place in boycotted history
Her intelligent eyes were her forever prize and brought back to life time and time by way of creative misrepresentation

Now but a sleeping giant, a posthumous literary sensation to be bountifully remembered and earmarked for the rest of a million more harpooned-by-the-heart singular generations of blessedly pressed people

We are the winded wind which fills her hot air balloon of allure time and time again soon as the pen-teller sets sail to cast a most unsuspecting spell

Only ever correcting her hidden and suggestive self

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