He treads my dream and glimpses through my fleeting stories.
Neither does he react to them nor does he like my posts.
Who is he? He sure is a riddle who muddles my thoughts.
He treads my dream and glimpses through my fleeting stories.
Neither does he react to them nor does he like my posts.
Who is he? He sure is a riddle who muddles my thoughts.
At the call of the one who remember's their dead lover one is alive despite being dead the perishable body shall only hold onto a few...
Staring at the ruined canvas with colours she detest and forms she'd never digest to view any longer, she slathered fresh hues to cover...
let it flow through you, acknowledge it, the suffering shall also have place in your thoughts now Eventually will give root to wisdom and...
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