Lacking in creativity, the stolen soul

All imaginatively bewildering fixations endlessly ceasing to be – she’s down upon right round her pulsating knees

Praying to the mighty heavens above for something else to take over
To lose sudden control and to feel the surface of her face again – blessed by these multi-faceted awarenesses of lonely hers

Been meaning to stand out from the maddening crowd, the laugh-a-minute, cry-hard party jester

Entrapped and sickly entertained by her own constrained nature – when brutal loss causes unstoppable behaviour regards a maniacal lady and her need to absolutely be…

Otherworldly and undeniably the chosen one who carries with her an ethereal degree of far-fetched happiness where her darting heart used to bolster itself to rightfully belong

Her very best friend only minus the never-ending screams

We hear her in her sleep – and it’s safe to say that the glory days have been turning over in their graves

She’s ferocious, been needlessly disposed of and it feels a little bit like… Mandela’s wrongful imprisonment

Only minus the politics and plus the hidden agenda
Can the comeback ever even turn out to be – any kind of semblance of a real life permitted unto thee

A deserving girl if ever there were one, way back when it all

She’s ahead of herself, just a little too late for her date with destiny

Yet, her living, seething mind cannot but still attempt to caress the better edges of itself

Bountifully betrayed – ladies & mental-men, welcome to the demonic delay

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