On A Pedestrian Concourse Flow

[honeydumplin]

Long lavender ribbons, curled little and rolled
A young girl twirling locks of it white gold.
In furl clever they imply, near bare to be bold
Wrongs ever, however, entailed to be told.
The hand her hand held, from a mime up above
Swung casually gentle, some mum time of love,
And sublime so sashay, its embrace cup wove
The tangled fine faceless, voice fashion thereof.
She then heard her hearsay celebrity jail
She then heard "My dear."
Another ketamine tale.
When up, out a window, at the moon the girl blew
A kiss with a wish of minutes now overdue.
“Save me," she sighed, "from this sale of cells."
"Oh, save me," she cried, "from this gosh awful hell!"