from new paths
non-elected
proper
I digest myself in the sun of the thicket of flavors
I wake up again
I let the ribbons stroke me
orange
gaining strength from everyone
brushes
I grow around my own
meager shores
adorned with cirrus coolness
I digest myself in my juices
aroma
from new paths
I am getting old slowly
I'm turning gray
though the face still craves the sun
only to him
I look
in the meteo sauce yourself
I oppose
I'm cutting myself to shreds
azure
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