End of Pangs


A feeling of creepiness
haunts her
Through the windows of eyes
that wrongs her.
She tries,
To not cry
But An extreme fury has
Already been raged inside her.
In the arms that are
meticulously placed,
She holds her colds
And tries not to show her bolds
She starts to ornate, and then
She starts her flight of aight,
That is plaited
And long-been waited
Now, she owns her Utopia
That is struck inside the tones of sepia
This continues and slowly
removes all her hues
that belonged to her once, long ago.
Now, she just wants to not harm
And be calm
She just wants to disembark the dark
So that she can once again be the
Grace with no regret trace
In a way that does not
Taste from the frame of
Hasty Pace.

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