Mold
Creeping along on stealthy fingers, so thin as to be almost invisible to the eye, there is an unlikely progression that is lively and stretching and thus it is time to feed the birds. The unmistakable sign of life that is mold is vexing when found, though it is a wonderful sign that necessary and incredible processes still proceed. Nonetheless, life robs me, cheats me of my rights, for I bought that very bread this hour last night. So life gives in yeast and I guess takes takes in mold, completing a cycle that has me at the store once again.
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