Another attempt at contrived writing. Grammar has probably been stabbed multiple times and left to die on a cobbled street where buses don't often ply.
She slept to a lullaby that she could just about not hear.
She approached a land that she could just about not remember.
She breathed a whisper that she could just about not utter.
She pictured a landscape that she could just about not convey.
Someone was waiting, she could just about not delay.
She awoke to a new day.
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Written in January 2012.
This is a quick scribbling down of events narrated to me rather than poem or prose. This is what I heard, I swear.
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