February dribbles - 9
She spins; the wheels go round and round. She rides the merry-go-round, till skies keep turning like memory’s broken sound. There’s no-one there. She doesn’t care. And sunset’s gray turns cold.
Time to pretend, she tells herself, game over, secrets ended; he was never her friend.
Spinning alone, broken sound.
Time to pretend, she tells herself, game over, secrets ended; he was never her friend.
Spinning alone, broken sound.
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