Something needs to occur
otherwise she will lose her pretty little wicker-road guise – we’ve touched and forced ourselves
to try and bring her right back from this preposterously unimaginable brink
They swore upon their ancestors’ sorry souls that she’d be OK by the petrifying conclusion
these endlessly stretched problems will NOT simply make you stronger – how so very dis-accordingly wrong on your over-factualised/-fictionalised
bullshit accord
Shut the hell up and leave this lady to her own conscious decisions
can we not see
she’s been pummeled to a serious point where the balancing-act line tends to taking itself to a point of being
out-and-out extraordinarily placed
Yes, still, she will walk and talk and set the bar so fucking outlandishly far it really is all that we can do not to bow right by her
wax-bowed feet – these momentous, albeit sadly rare occasions specially loaned to her
are quite possibly better than anything we may have ever been born to satisfactorily see
She remains an unfathomable level above
and so soon as we do get to let ourselves see such a magnificently tragic thing in all of our mundane and safely pedestrianised lives, shall we breathe this forever-air that she so fiercely begs herself to need quickfire on through her most opportune part of one single being
Finally, the come-on-up which carries with it the perfectly cleansed aside poignantly gleamed utensil
for guided, all too necessary interjection