It was then that she saw it
that hint of a spark in the distance
with newly flared up hope her mind whirled
could it be?
that light at the end of the tunnel crap?
does it truly happen?
outside of literature? the smell of old books, their brown pages and dried ink?
apart from the distinctive brushes of an artist? to exist outside of still colour, in a constantly blurred and undefined life?
She gets closer
No..it doesn't.
1 comment:
yes it does! :D
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