Paper Chains
Idle stars Spatter the sheet Where do they come from. They're in every Fibre of her being But does she know That's what she's made of? Pretty but far away Bright And yet dangerous The yellow gas fills her lungs And she allows it Blowing it out At her chosen one Written March 3rd, 2002 © on Mar 03 2002 12:35 AM PST, Louise Bell 18 • 0 • 10
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"Idle stars..."