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The sky is almost indigo with wispy clouds outside my cage, inside there are bubbles that I blow,blow, blow.Sitting here I burn incandescent with rage,rage, rage.
Oh! how many bubbles I do not know but inside each, taught emotions grow,grow,grow. How many thoughts can you sow unto barren cold ground?? They cannot grow, grow, grow.
My black hair flows in the wind that through my cage blows, blows, blows a red trim in my hair flows. I am wearing a black bask with ostrich feather trim trim trim. It make my bust look good and my waist thin, thin, thin!
Sitting here on my silver swing, I look at my sexy purple leather knee high boots, boots, boots. I count the bubbles, grief, loss, anger, pain and irritation. Some of the bubbles are bursting and water drips from them like irrigation. Below my cage the ocean ebbs and flows deep and dark and with the liquid from my bubbles it grow, grows, grows.
Lets blow some more bubbles greed, avarice,lust ,why yes those three are a must, must,must.I am tired of sitting here on my own. Lonely grows she who sits here on the swing throne, throne, throne. A few more bubbles pride, prejudice loathing, enough, now like my bubbles I shall go roam,roam, roaming!
willowdot21 