There is a case of thug...
There in a minute your flesh unharmed, in another it tore...
Yet in another it healed or rot... either ways...it is always the same...
The water purifies itself in a cycle... rivers into vapours into clouds into rain into seas and streams... everything is in circles....
That is where every tiny little thing starts and fades...
the momentum was as if a cursed chain...
binds the wits... things drag on...
you bathe...
You ar clean but not for long...
your body smells after a certain time...
you never stay purified for long...
yet although the processing of getting stinky is fast...
the purification is slow...
nothing stays purified for long...
are dirt really dirt when it starts out?
a means to cling makes dust a dirt...
when it clings, refusing to barge, it grows...
when it grows... it accumulates..
alongside claims other recollections of its own...
when they collide...
they attract..
the essence arose...
thus, the stench...
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