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Poetry
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| Aria | |
| By kitten_princess | ||||||||
| 24 November 2006 | ||||||||
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Another one... I think I may develop this one a bit more into something... or maybe not? Not sure. Please comment! :D a child was born into a suburban, unassuming tribe - The Smiths, The Jacksons? doesn't matter - the name, a burden at the best of times drowned her in promise, hope, the desire of generations to get her out; it fails. I see her dance on a supermarket stage when I shop, the bright lights she meets are only from erratic tills, the chords of ten scanners blipping are her backing band. Mind you, I can't dance either.
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