Day 2 : The Working - Michael, forgotten, and shamed

Reset the eyes, in greetings exclaim, exhale, my findings, now hands chores, what yours, to take, in wars new tores. A chuckle, is might light hid night, not a physical angel tailored grip loss sight. There are no angels wars foretold, that can tailor a bite, on a fold tore glory floors.

Reset the eyes, now partings take. Shape the eyes, on the pedestal take, and allow my sight the eyes reset, continous greet, I will solder a grip, to a no-man’s tempests fleet, and grip with eyes, torn with wars, all passengers and passages emptied light torn floors. Pause….