The wiring of these limbs
Attached with artificial vines,
Abolish time,
Receiving the right
to be defined divine.
A boundless faculty for occasions
of pleasant light,
Gives consent to release
this peripheral sight,
Whilst the morn of our day
is prolonged in night.
These limbs reach for
the edge of space,
Guided by their
conceited face.
And this face,
Grafted by their own creation,
Confined by the progression
Formed with this limb of design
Lays down subtle mines
That give you a new limb
As they detonate,
Bringing devastation and faith.
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Whoa! That is heavy! Nicely done
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