Stars and butterflies refusing to abide by the lines meant to confine and define

Thoughts and change became the aim of the framed by the surname

No matter the weather, sever the pressure, measure to betters, put to terror in letters, whenever and forever

Truly yours is like forgotten lore lost because of war, so it sits and pours in roars stored beneath the floor

And the method is blessed by being infected by the foulest nest of pests that refuse the rest like a stressed guest of a quest unimpressed with the rewarded chest

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