Hidden beneath moonlit shadows
I hear her sing a tale beneath the ancient bridge. A melody that brings serenity, yet I can tell is filled with her distress. This girl, my friend with so much life and with such purity, voices everything to me. Her secrets, her troubles and fears become my own. She scribes solemn statements
upon the stones surrounding her. She’s miserable. I can tell by the way she saunters ever so slightly down a corridor of shadows. When sets of eyes are not staring her down, she attempts to erode the silver silhouettes, slightly, as she splashes serenely, slapping the masonry that confines her slender, streamlined body. |
Editorial Staff
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