The gentle blow of sincere breath,
Can open the feathered door of a heart,
The tempestuous wind of affair in mind,
Modify the feather into metal, not to recline,
Forbidden fruits are too tempting to taste;
Once tasted, the guilt of remembrance to waste,
The rest of life; looking through the tarnish,
The stained past, not removed, garnish,
The thought of insecurity, doubt and ache,
The Life is in shock and the human still act,
rules can be changed as truth has dimensions,
the metal door has a security card with codes,
the painted human with high rise collars,
confused as ever; once they were on trees,
naked in groups with suckling babies; no they are,
too afraid not looking at the eyes of strangers.
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