Higher meaning via literary maze

Within opinionated flaps of printer’s skin

Scanning, absorbing lost bundled letters

Clear message – not quite brilliant works

Writer’s stance is hollow, feeble – no sacrifice at all

Nonfiction soul is lacking – perhaps even exiled

Plastering glossy imagines – like flowers in mud

Writer’s composing spirit is dying – thus yellow, moldy funeral

Reader lives willingly to suffer the task

Such is required to take up the purposeful quill

 

 

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