Her fingers are terrifically banjaxed, a mind treacherously toiling, away on a most cumbersome whim
These constant coffees and musty cigarettes to take her through the numbing fix
An utter need to make things happen, carrying with her a concentrated face hellbent on outright success – rosy red cheeks pushed to within an inch of their rather telling limit
Soaked to the bone in all kinds of talent albeit relatively hidden for now, words will continue to swarm yet begrudgingly take it upon themselves to fail to land in her hand time again
Precarious wishes – hope-filled and longingly fastened to a dream above all else
Praying for that little bit extra special to occur, somewhere… somehow…
Some time soon

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