Every which way there was reflective glass to be seen
Crushed into a thousand-and-ten teensy smithereens
Pretty to the bare-naked eye, perhaps
Albeit an entirely separate story altogether when taking into account an avidly estranged nature
No such stranger to making her blood drip a million ways downward
Puddles in and around her agonisingly muted inward scream, fabricated outward lurch
On into a hundred high school girls and their evening exterior – naively and smoking crushed cigarettes
Dressed in blue emblazoned skirts, their very own eyes conveyed just how much it had hurt all of her

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