Would wicks blown by wind burn fire to wire wood,
womb and water wasted on willingness to worry over world wide web and war?
Why work, win, want, and whine whistle wicked witches
make sammies from the worst wheat in the west?
The waddles of walrus’s wink to wolves, right or wrong,
they wince and weaken through wreck less writing.
Woah, the wool wills lambful worship upon swollen wonders