Sunday, 15 September 2013

Model on the northern line

Doth the world desire you so my dear?
Bambi lashes
Porcelain pout
We the normal
We the just ok
Who's eyes are drawn
To that perfect alien
Graceful in tatters
Holding the carriages attention
With that nonchalon look of
You are nothing
I have the company of princes and night club owners.
We have nothing in common
Behind these eyes
I think only in diamonds.

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