A smile and she takes her favourite self away from all of the thunderous rounds of sudden applause and predominantly pauses for a sip of dry wine

Right by the squared-off corner where people tend to be less interested
Like watching paint dry

These Art gallery people have been snidely, silently witnessing and watching and obviously sneering, but, still, she will continue on no less interested in this haphazard and decidedly plagiarised thing

It has been none too softly singing inside of her, oft than not stinging at the parts where everything begs to make singular sense again

These high-wired, flighty, introspective conversational dins appear to be all about the high ‘n’ mighty, yet it is just not for her prioritised mind anymore

Most great artist’s will have to open up the far more monstrous and beating, breathing pieces of their comfortably uncomfortable minds

Oft than not ear-achingly uncontrollable and eating away at her interior design
Perhaps too weak, all too kindly

And manage to wrestle with these interfering demons until… interference means everything oh so very dilapidated and extremely pretty

Yet, the feedback has to remain to be an eagle-eyed necessity of invested sorts

Her bare-naked, multi-coloured, -enthused canvas stands lonely and alone: predisposed to causing her over-utilised brain to bleed right by the trembling bleed and like tasteless crazy

When she appears to need it the very least
Soon as it meets the critical eye of the laymen in history right by the middle

Of unasked for reasoning

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