And it was with holy shouts
Thee only parishioners threw molded bread into the air to abide by the prisoners and make them walk for it.
They dealt threatening circumstances.
This is not food to be eaten!
Sickness on the banks and all wonder who toil fill with villainy and grace
It was all they had and grace had turned evil.
Into survival and nurture was apprehended at the gates of opportunity.
The coming of age story, only to be talked about in child labor and apprenticeships
At least the waif knew to listen when they poured good drink.
petrichor - archive 