Locked inside this prison cell, she smirks at the sight of the torture devices she raises her eyes to see. Fear? Not of death, no sir! Out of anything she welcomes him with open arms! (Joke:
If you touch death you will die.] Eyelids literally pinned to the pinch of skin above her eyebrows, to keep her eyes on the TV in front of her. It’s stuck on replay, and sometimes she screams
“WHY DON’T YOU PLAY SOMETHING OTHER THAN MY MEMORIES!!!”
Oh she’s stuck in her mind, and it’s just a time bomb ticking away the hours, and minutes, into the seconds of her final break down. Most days the timer is slower compared to real time, but
that doesn’t mean it’s stopped. You see everyone has a ticker, she can just hear hers. And it’s annoying I’m sure of it. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, TOCK!! Four hours later it’s
the same noise at a different rhythm waiting for the next day. What exactly is she waiting for?
A better future, what else is there to wait for? Nothing will come if you sit around and wait. Have you ever been so depressed that you can barely open your eyes like the bottom half of your
heart is hanging by a string of hope you’ll be somewhere else, but when you open your eyes it’s like a hook was attached to the top of the heart and as your eyes saw where you were, it tore that
piece of hope holding your heart together… just to remember you’re in the same place where you always wanted to leave. Yet she gets up everyday because she knows no other way than to just get out
of the past! She runs from it during the day, but she knows she can’t hide in the dark. Since you know, she’s afraid of it.
She feels like a sad clown, the ultimate contradiction!! On stage she can be free, her words come out in mini stories! Yet in front of one or two people she chokes up and stutters, why? Don’t
ask, she has no idea. The clown in the polka dot dress, stripped leggings, right shoe black, the other white. Her suspenders left side black, the other white… her earrings are even mismatched.
Though not her makeup, that my friends, is for some reason, classy, with wavy, light brown[NOT BLONDE] curled hair… she’ll never be able to make up her mind about a set outfit. For her outfit is
the preview before you see her mind. Look at it close, it tells you more than you thought. Never been anything besides her, the biggest mystery to her, is the way she thinks. She questions
life along with even her own mind… along with everyone else’s mind. What has she got to do? Locked inside this prison cell.
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