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She is the last of her Frailty, that shadow Of girl interrupted, The whole of her burned Like a great scar on a heart She once knew. The anamolous woman In another world, A woman used and left behind, Though one cannot recognise Her face, through her Demeanor she tells of another life. And she declared war With a ravenous intention On building great walls, Insurmountable And with no doors She leaves but a window For him to find And glimpse what she guards. He will fall for her And break like water against The rock, The jagged rock never smoothened And the walls will shake At the oscillating moment, She will see a silhouette of frail And timid creature, She will sedate the emotion And the walls will grow taller, The embodiment of independence In a story lost to the pain, She will walk the earth In a stir of echoes past, The walls shimmering dark glow, And the woman scorned does roam.
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Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
And The Woman Scorned Does Roam
She is the last of her Frailty, that shadow Of girl interrupted, The whole of her burned Like a great scar on a heart She once knew. The anamolous woman In another world, A woman used and left behind, Though one cannot recognise Her face, through her Demeanor she tells of another life. And she declared war With a ravenous intention On building great walls, Insurmountable And with no doors She leaves but a window For him to find And glimpse what she guards. He will fall for her And break like water against The rock, The jagged rock never smoothened And the walls will shake At the oscillating moment, She will see a silhouette of frail And timid creature, She will sedate the emotion And the walls will grow taller, The embodiment of independence In a story lost to the pain, She will walk the earth In a stir of echoes past, The walls shimmering dark glow, And the woman scorned does roam.
dedpoet
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Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
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