She walks the air kissed grass,
as music whispers on harp,
The world afixed at her feet,
lured by the anklet singing.
Little did they know,
the shattered shards playing hard,
which her anklet masks.
And she hummed a perfect tune
flurring the dead tunes.
Broken heart croons the sweetest hum,
when the world is gone,
and the pleasures go numb.
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