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efterfesten
the afterparty In the barren moors, Tears fall, The grass whispers The horizon stretches, In this moment,
in the barren moors,
silence swells, filling the void. Tears fall, carving paths on skin, yet bring a moist clarity, mending broken places. The grass whispers secrets of rebirth, each drop a promise, each tear a renewal. The horizon stretches, endless, with hope seeping into the soil. In this moment, life whispers softly in the language of rain and silence.
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av
crypticbard
![]() Läst 25 gånger och applåderad av 1 personer Publicerad 2025-03-08 13:55 ![]() |
![]() ![]() ![]() crypticbard ![]() |