pouch

Plank shards sprawled in rows that align and fuel themselves
Stacked on repeating pillars that lumber down your well

Unmarked pouch relating the corners of yourself
Dipped down to broken colors that lighten up yourself
Granted thorns to shuffle beside all flowers you're dealt
We're spinning hexagons that design you from your well

Pulled forth roots that grow on a pine under your well
You've got the script and frame and you lighten up yourself

Packed in place
It's sudden, it binds all of your shell
Walk down and slip through remnants and idle with yourself
Splayed on bricks that want you to pile under yourself
With spinning hexagons that design you from your well