in

Shield, one grown weak

Slamming against the shield, one grown weak, with this greying day. Increasing strength, this shoving blast, one, which we hope, will not last.

Ah, this storm, created? Not awaited, nor dreamt for more, only the acceptance, had we ignored. None will admit, warned, we were. Though we debated, some are no more.

Luxury wanting, taking the theme, freezing gift given, sin almost complete. Now, Now, while heart mourns, Some are inflated, denials wrath blind, we must compete. Newly defined.

So say not, message cast, this we wished, authority forlorn. Nature will last, while we live fast, no thought of another, just the need for more.

What do you think?

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