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Analysis Of The Poem ' The Dust '

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Thud, thud the sound of hammer clouds John’s mind and concentration erupts in his emerald eyes. Cold, the quiet workspace the aroma of paint flies from bryan’s side of the space. ,crack,crack the cool ice starting to shatter, shivers rolling down my body, and I can 't think anymore.Panic murders my concentration and I blow nothing left but pure madness and anger and throw another hope away. It 's over, another one gone in the dust, I really thought that I would finally get at least once. Bryan, a fellow artist and best friend of mine, limbed over in his sprained ankle. How did he sprained get his ankle. “ Another FAIL!” I wined, “ You will get it next time don 't worry, just relax” Bryan reassuring me, but inside I was crumpling and his words meant nothing. I worried what my family is gonna think when they know that I failed again to sculpt one object. Sometimes I feel like I am not true Armstrong blood, I can 't even get one proper sculpt, but my family is perfect, each one ended up a successful sculptor and my brother Kal ended up a famous painter.
Lost in thought Bryan finally bumped me out of it. The night sky, rising over us and the white horse jolts to a stop. In front be my house or you can call it a mansion. Our lawn fresh cut had a statue of the cupid with water raging out the tip of its bow hand sculpt by the legendary grandpa Armstrong.Our house looked freshly painted, the white outside shined through the night. My sister must be home because I see

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