A fragile world;
pixelated dreams;
we weft in thinned walls,
and ecru spews the tepid truth.
A night dies,
bury her over the moonlit stars
for the song of day;
is fervent for the horizon.
A horizon uprising
as song of day, dreams on
equilibrium find the world;
and ache functions like breaking walls.
Buy Rivers of Broken Waters here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Rivers-Broken-Water-Hannah-Williams/dp/B0CR4D1L3D
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