"Mr Boon"
It's really been a while I came across that adorable senile man " Mr Boon", maybe he's just too vexed with me,  maybe he's not pleased with the last encounter, cause I was too rash on the dusty.
Oh dear good senile man "Boon" don't be too ******* m
e not to pave on my pavement again. I know, I might have just been quite juvenile the aforetime, and we never learn. But does not everyone deserve a twoth?

It's  a similitude quite like none other I have composed...

I was like a bird, upon which back there is a burden which limits it's every movement and pull it down everytime it try to take off, yet unable to relieve itself of the burden cause he feared the outcome of laying off such a burden.. It was a Burden of quintessence to him,  for it might make or unmake, destroy or bind the very home it cherished, adored and not ready to give it up for anything not even this burden, but the moment, though it required much audacity needed for a forceful abduction of ..."Donald Trump. From the White House".. he choose the option, to let down the burden.. And now with the God given broad wings and the much enthusiasm from the outcome of the relief, it will take a flight like never before, so high it will put all beholders in wonderment..

Devastated continuity....

It was a time unlike aforetime..
Eyes became heavy, lids dropping and nose running streams..

Legs became weak, hearts became broken and brains tuned to the channel of Kerfuffle like a faulty compares drifting through directions and heads became bowed..


Mouth became closed,  throats became dried and intestines got tangled..

Voices pronouncing, lamenting, grieving.. Agonies bursting forth in acclamation..

Time got suspended, sun stood still behind the clouds, moon went on a visit..

Everything seems paused for a while, yet not a  thing ever gives the slightest respite or tarry a while to console a devastated, shattered heart and soul...

It's Time...

For so long,  consciously or unconsciously, I have given you the access..
Allowed you to shape and mold me to your heart desires..
Like a clay upon the hands of the sculptor.. Oh, what a beauty you have constructed...

Like the SCULPTURE PYGMALION,
Graciously, the gift of breath have been granted unto the figure you have molded..

Allotted the wheel to you..
Like a vehicle, you have driving me, crazily, calmly,  moderately, to the vissicitude of your heart desires..
But it's now Authomatum.
Like a skilled architect, you've crafted me to your desideratum, into a perfection but not my perfection.

Like a weaver, you've weaved me into  a marvelous fine silk, radiating quite a beauty to the beholder of utmost perfection yet so imperfect..

For so long, you have succeeded in assembling me,  yet feeling so disassembled...

Verily, Like a mosaic artist, you have drafted an incredible piece of work, perfect, yet so imperfect..

Like the SCULPTURE PYGMALION,
Graciously, the gift of breath have been granted unto the figure you have crafted..