A spikelet

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The point of ink soils.
The unflawed canvas it spoils.
Impure canvas elated.
Its lowliness abrupt uplifted.

The spikelet dwells on her.
For the much received pamper,
Protection, its responsibility.
Although limit to her beauty.

Ever together is a phantom
T’is ubiquitous at random.
Error to your concealing,
Always the fellow feeling.

Mole at the main stage.
Oh! But you aren’t a sage.
It shall be your theme.
Blemished yet moonbeam ?

Bowed manner at your brim.
My heartbeat its synonym.
Broken at thy dysphoric eye.
After much heat, T’is to purify.

T’is for you, who rose,
I shall become spikelet.
For t’is you who I chose,
To protect.

A.Printzesa

#aditivijayan

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