Brush

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Everyone gathered in one place. Standing so straight and short. Flock in groups. Stood by their equals. Fresh as new.

Everyone was so happy just being held on a small place where all of them can fit. Sparkling with various colors. Green flocks with green. Red flocks with reds. White flocks with white. Though, there will never white that flocks with green.

Later, they were packed inside a plastic cellophane. They were wrapped as to they forgot breathing.

Soon, they were brought home. Placed beside the toilet bowl. Used and rigid aging.

That’s just the way they are; being brush.

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