Seafront
Small Cold And White Covered in grease She waits to leave Since her arrival The white world. Silver Blue Frozen? But no life. Ice hairs Stick up like spines The stickleback Music keeps her alive And yet dulls Her brain She wonders If this is hell.Do you get colour from this? Written March 4th, 2002 © on Mar 04 2002 05:32 AM PST, Louise Bell 0 • 10
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"Small..."