Skin, pale as ice, yet soft as silk.
Eyes drawn downward to avoid the sight of the world above.
Wind-blown hair, and voice so sweet.
Dark may the eyes be, to hide so much within,
but memories and thoughts so clearly drawn out
across a sheet of paper.
Pen and ink make no mistakes, as the images splash across so quickly.
Words remain unspoken, as the world revolves around such a delicate
and strange creature,
as it moves onward and slowly dragging her along.
Such skin was never found before, eyes once lit up by the light
of an exotic world, and hair always the same beautiful mess.
Images and sorrow-filled words are laid down,
for the forgotten memories still remain,
although hidden from the light.
Dark eyes of such a creature never dwell long upon the thought
of her dreams, of her own demise,
yet never stray too far from the ideas.
Pale as ice, soft as silk, and eyes drawn downward
to make those around such a delicate creature
forget who she truly is inside.
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