I looked into those crazed green eyes, wondering what lays behind them.
What could those lays of liquid colored specturms mean? What does she hide that she doesn't let anyone see?
She attempt to forget, forget whatever it is she so desperately wishes to erase from the corners of her mind. When you stare into those emerald orbit eyes, you see a story that cannot be told in words - a story that cannot be read out loud out.
"Don't do that." I mutter, I muttered.
"Bitch, ain't no ghetto-jew tellin me what to do," she says, moving her head slowly from one side to another, imitating what in her tiny little world would resemable a black woman.
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