Her face trickled with blood,
The same gore stained, umblemished brass,
Bold in taste, and thin in notion,
Guiding her tounge to savour the bitter flavour,
Iron, moist and cold,
The streaks, they prevail,
Hold her back so she may travel in perpetual circles,
The beads, they tally her existence,
Reminding her who the one with more value and significance is,
What a portentous girl, such a shame, such a burden,
Not even an essential, prodigious, as made a horrid scar,
Oh, who would love to aid her,
Oh, who would love to harm her,
Seeming without worry, without a care in the world,
Her posture remains solid,
A true model of blaze,
A new meaning of sin,
Seeming wihtout worry, without a care in the world,
She blinks, and twirls her hair,
Reminding everyone, she still exists.
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