Her hand coming out, from the womb with eager, a thing she wants.
By spring rain, a zombi just one for, at the cemetery wet with.
A balloon hung down, and gone, the leopard in blood. Or, a balloon hanged down, and gone, the leopard in blood.
The dawn is breaking in the rain, one of children left after, to kidnap.
In the bath room, a lace lining there of there, having her own smell.