Miss Marian Cliche.
As to who she is I am not entirely aware, but what she stirs within my soul is all too recognizable.
Particularly when she leaves me in lament for what I fancied & bear to be my greatest talent.
Suddenly my bellows of prose are cracked moot. Thrown to the back of my voice box so quickly, I almost sling my shoulder out trying to silence my revelry.
Clockwork takes action as the lopsided copy of 'Death of a salesman' takes it's 3: 30 cannonball into carpeted waters & the largest After-school of fish you've ever seen.
Within children's snickers first, her shushes ...