She plans to go far. But never knowing, never showing the arduous journey she must take. Trapped in an unsealed bubble where belief maintains the idealism that: poetry is the colour of the blind, poetry is the music of silence, and poetry is the beauty of words. Where a musical note and a drop from an artist’s brush bring forth a flowing escape of inspiration. She spreads her nightingale wings to fly but the vultures are always one step ahead; perched and hovering, circling and waiting... to devour.
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