Teeth

A late Sunday afternoon warped into my mom shouting ,
and warm sunlight filtering down.

A light breeze wafted up ,
from the consumer to the senses ,
with the message .

The city is on a siege,
the walls are breached
and rows of soldiers hammering ,
chipping away causing,
black stench and yellow flood .

Brush they cried !
Be our Saviour they pleaded.
But here i am,
in English class writing Poems..

AJAX

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