when it comes to the crunch
not much joy in escape
the spark rises
then the feeling of
fire and spirit fall
her voice has an edge
spell binding she was hot
she slept with a number of sweet spikes
pulling at her wings
wanted to be a singer
but then started
snorting little lines of coke
up her nose
her skin limp with frosty green dyed tattoos
hair wind swept nature's bird nests
tossed like a pebble in the ocean
without a word
days turning into years
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