Little angel of my imagination.
I saw you last when I was just a girl;
sailing across the shoreline,
clutching my bucket, my jewelery box.
Platinum and magenta;
glowing so brightly in my hangman's basket,
but they all seemed so colourless
when your withering frame caught my eye.
Your imploding, copper body
resembled an inside-out fetus,
as if you'd been aborted by the ocean.
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