Rosegarden2012
ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 ℑ, 𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔠𝔦𝔯𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱
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Let these pages immerse you into the endless horizon of language-- where thoughts end not in a simple dash or dot. This, my dear, is evidence of my struggle-- that not all elevation come with might. Rather, it comes with patience, doubt, and wisdom. Where scarcity of nobility strangles the heart desiring of greatness... the only garden it can grow is within.
My grand desire is to utter as if the words speak for itself, yet for a world whose tongue outruns one's wit, my steel-tipped pen is shortened. So even if my bed is not the soil I prefer, let my stem outstretch to graze the rays of the light-- and this struggle come fruitful in its endeavor.