It is in the belly again that it happened of tiny cells that grew without permission in a splurge inside the body, behind the back and an inside has to go of a bag of beings.
Twenty five times blue rays have to touch as if it is the morning sun on the patio. I cannot seem to edit the noise in the belly the fears rising in the depths of its blues ,the little blue powder, its maleficent rays.
The Morning is Just a Dream 
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