almost dancing on a glaring white cloud, i could see me. almost at the peek of my lashes, although they're not curvy-long to an envy and wouldn't mind you saying they're not that pretty, i watch my little self shine as i wait for him. almost and almost i can smell him coming up with the brightest sun he could put up. he would bring so much tan and salt. Mr. March would bring me my bestfriend home.but he is a fake. the big MR. MARCH IS A FAKE. he laughs at our hopes, he laughs at my daydreams, he laughs at my waiting.
and on my tiny head, i would want us to go to a court. i would want him trapped and swarmed with the reddest ants on this planet.
so long mister march. i no longer wait for your coming.
