She, Dream

Imagine modesty,

Imagine verve,

Imagine oddity,

Imagine, emerge—

The heart that sends for the innocent and pure,

That pursues the cure,

This heart be yours,

Comprised of kindness in mental wars,

Let the hound free.


She has short hair,

She’s Caucasian, pale,

She doesn’t focus too much on what she wears,

She’s petite, small, but not necessarily frail,

She’s wildly imperfect and can do for a little repair,

She’s no whore, virgin preferred,

She’s quiet but wants be heard,

She speaks with her body,

She reacts to awkward situations very oddly,

She has a voice that could break hearing, but not sharp,

Soft…but not dull,

Like a harp,

But cruel,

But smart.

The dog that keeps to his rib cage,

Must be released,

For this piece—

Of my mind lies in the body of my dreams and page,

I want remedy, at young age…

I simply must find her.


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