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A BallerinaShe spun from my head, pointed tips Running down my locks. Silk feet, on my dry wires.A Ballerina
She is a butterfly, Cautious and small. Trapped in the strands of my head.
Gazing at a world lost.
I heard great big sighs,
Subtle like the wind.
She dances like her last,
Glittered costume shaped in the movement. Grace was hers.
Her fingers were glass upon my neck. Small but shivered me. Close to breaking.
I wanted to feel her skin. Maybe it was soft and flowed like her dress. But she ignored my desperate attempts to

--
~canadian gintamard~
--
☆
--
Deviants against Terrorism
If the world didn't suck, we would all fall off.
--
"i must be gone and live, or stay and die."
-let the right one in
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