There's a girl dressed in plain
pearly eyelids of pain
In her veins flows more energy then oil.~
And shes laying in a field
Of her mind's year-end yield
And she's bending the stare-gazing starlight
And on the ground; picnic pitch
By her hand's garnished stitch
Is the patterns of thoughts We've forgotten
Shes a young maiden-mind
Of her minds wealth of years
Though she fears what she hears in the real world
In her imaginative mind
She constructs scenes for the blind
Intertwined, like a laced Valhallan-wine.
Like a desert poppy flower
She is filled with potent Power
A presentation of sensation;
Always find her.~
She constructs what she wants
Doesn't wait, but creates
What she waits for.~
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