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
MADE SENSE
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
