With panting breathes, the world exhales. It's lungs engorged by thick fumes of death that humankind has imposed on it. With rasping breaths, it coughs out in bursts of wind that invade the earth, hoping to cleanse the planet of the obsidian waves of destruction that humankind has encapsulated it in. With fervent panting, the earth cries out a plea of mercy, for the plague of death crushes its soul. A faint light of hope breaks out in the horizon; of liberation. Will you answer its call with me? Together will we heed its warm tidings that radiate hope? Warm, blissful hope.
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Dҽʅιƈαƚҽʅყ
Poetry❝Lιƙҽ ƚԋҽ ʂσϝƚ ρҽƚαʅʂ σϝ α ϝɾҽʂԋʅყ Ⴆʅσσɱҽԃ ϝʅσɯҽɾ, ʅιƙҽ ƚԋҽ ιɳƚɾιƈαƚҽ ԃҽʂιɠɳʂ σɳ α ɱαʂƚҽɾριҽƈҽ, ƚԋҽʂҽ αɾҽ ԃҽʅιƈαƚҽ. Tԋҽʂҽ αɾҽ ԃҽʅιƈαƚҽʅყ ɯσʋҽɳ ɯσɾԃʂ ϝɾσɱ ƚԋҽ ԋҽαɾƚ. ❞-Lιʋƙυιʅҽ Of golden nature and of blackness of the soul. Gold & Black are delicate...