Soft, silver, white,
Like barium to the sight,
Lacquered, layered,
Tethered, Teased,
Each of my awakenings
I’ve yet to grasp,
Yet for each,
I hope they forever last,
Spilt from the tedious feat
Of staples extended
From carpet to foot,
From each trace left behind
I can’t imagine a more delicate type,
Roses in compendium
Fill the treasure trove with make believe,
You’ll live much longer if you breathe
You be much happier if you are faithful to your beliefs
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