Muse |
Muse |
The face shone faintly in a golden light. Thin, curly hair rested on her head like honey, Trickled round her face. Her dark eyes were focused on something That we could not see; They were full of dread, fear, anxiousness, As though expecting something or someone. By her ear, red and black threads entwined each other, From a plait into a bow; To the end, a sphere-shaped pearl hung, A droplet of silvery, white liquid. Framing the frightened face was a thin, handwoven fabric, As if to shield her identity. Clinging to her throat, a white band, Embroidered with gold. The face is a centre piece of the surrounding darkness, Of bad memories, dreams, emotions, Trapped forever. Originally written in 2009, age 13
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AuthorSamantha is a doctoral researcher researching the power of figurative language in advertising, social media, and mobile technology. Copyright © 2022
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