She sat on that dusty, tall hill,
Isolated by her own stubborn will,
It was late during that horrid night,
Nothing to her felt quite right,
Her clouded head perpetually throbbed,
Not stopping tears as she dauntingly sobbed.
The small, full moon mournfully shone,
The seeds of fear, already been sewn.
With spiny, thorny fingers outstretched,
Her heart, grasped, choaking, wrenched.
A tattered, faded shirt hung off of her form,
A shining dark cloak, wrapped around to keep warm.
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Tinny's Poetry and Ramblings (COMMENTS WANTED!)
Random stuff.
I'm hardly on, but when I'm on, I'm on. =)
I'd really like an elegant veil or pixie or anything else that's pretty! <3
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Lune Isis
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