Dressing the window,albeit peripheral,

rust that all was heaped,

with layers and layers of dust,

as was destined ,with no activity of surface,

The surface cant stood against flowing air,

sieve malevolence ,And lied dormant,

it was lying long,

now polishing appearance with mellow demeanour,

with perfect composure,

leaving no inkling of suspicion,

neither of vengence,

Or of cultivating task and targets,

yet all maneuvers are facile,

on the surface without root,

creating moments,

live lively in moments,

consequences not in these moments,

sensitive patsy,

weakening after,

each ripple leaving scar,

dredging cant be attempted,

drowning under pilferage,

naivety the monogram,

at its inherent cost,


when cost soars,

sinking gains momentum.

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