Poem Hunter
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Poem By Miss Fairytale

She is paper, she is glass
She is spine damaged and crashed
She moves through magazines
With her lions and debris.

The scarecrows in her hair
Reflect the eyes she locks on stare
And her wasteland, it is cramped
With the parts she trapped and scratched.

She sings her lungs out loud
She cries out to the crowd
Dulls her glory lights
But no one else is singing.

She is loopholes in release
She recites whilst she's asleep
Watches hours tick and scream
But no one else is listening.

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