Walls made dust.

My wall made to appear suggestive, or twice a rendition from above, came a thought of support, heaping with security our plight tactile. Nor with wish or renaming a star, had you given my inhibitions away, a matching note of reassuring. Those roar to patter, in creativity, unarming viability to suggest a watching pot, the pooling resource of clouding monochrome. Dying came attentively through thought, potential generosity insolvent to claim emotive, them viable to a star.

2020 Adam Blewett ©

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