untitled
By Amy
I sit, an amber haired ghost watching a bunch of girls stream outside to smoke. They waste there words between quick puffs filling each other with toxic conversation of clothing and men. I wonder how it is to walk through ones day so unseeing. I wonder just the same if they know how it feels to be unseen. Written October 17th, 2001 © on Oct 16 2001 11:33 PM PST 18 • 0 • 1
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"I sit, an amber haired ghost..."