A breath of air.
Only for a chance to nourish the two
godward designed equipment.
Forgetful fun with a phase brought
upon by a manipulated system.
A once rich. Strong. Now diminished a source taken for granted.
A smoke of a plague
fond in destroying my beautifully set equipment.
Yet this equipment has no repair.
Gray. The color of the marker painted.
Broken. Broken. Destroyed.
Now one more breath too late.

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