" Voice is about knowing who you are
and why what you write can only be written by you
Were I to be different
A life first imagined.
A green field dotted by blooosom trees.
A gift of Mrs. Mable’s Ice-cream in my hand.
I run with my Good Old friends,
Till the rain pour in
As dinner bell ring
But I sit I wait.
The rain like a veil of grey
She slips away.
A long braid, a pink dress
But still I play.
I wasn’t done pretending; a fairy or a princess. (Rain gets louder)
I wanted the Princess to slay the dark lord.
The dark lord feeds the princess poison.
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