The water on the top of her brow stayed in place as she spun out of time into the circle of all the minds eye
A cloak before her, flags of all nations sewn in one, where the the petals are the leaves and the flower hard to see
Long corridors, one, two are left and right eleven though in front of times that could be and one with many behind.
Her black and white oxfords tied tightly around her feet, the old crow peered heartily into the nows of all the places of circles in rows. The time to pop on the line was in-between the stars.
Heavy words stagnated in space and filled the air, the hate was compounded with fear, once free cats hanging from trees, whispers on lies it's what got them there.
It looked like the clock stopped ticking at five to nine.
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