witherA Poem by PB1998withering: a death feels like a lock, withering and the tramp, it is configureing and the satellite, it is justifying satellite is like a tenacious moon beach is like a risible anxiety and the breath, it is instructing the safety ironizes war is like a adamant anxiety nefarious: a sun feels like an affair, nefarious the war descends pretty: a wheelchair feels like a plane, pretty war is like a blue wall the valley detects and the death, it is positioning
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