The Diagnosis
Enok Mayeny
  I, sobbing in the rolling mist, Started for peopled days. In dreams A faded, lonely promontory shed petals. Belief exists. Cunning with its perfume Working from youth, defiance. A phantom Vanished. The swift surrenders, leap into The old dead heart of lies. I will give, remembering my turns Into foliage. Of what light unseen! What, what, what, what, what, what Will hold still without its end?
2020-04-24 17:34:19
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From The Invention of Influence Page Sostenuto The Pretty Papers Section
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@freshredrosess
Iryna Markova
@iryna_markova
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وردةٌ قبِيحة
تُومِي.
و مَا الّذي يجعلُ مصطلحُ الوردة قبِيحة؟ -مَا الّذي تنتظرهُ من وردةٍ واجهت ريَاح عاتية ؛ وتُربة قَاحلة و بتلَاتٍ منهَا قَد ترَاخت أرضًا ، مَا الّذي ستصبحهُ برأيك؟
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Why?
Лунная Лапа
I was alone. I am alone. I will be alone. But why People always lie? I can't hear it Every time! And then They try to come Back. And i Don't understand it. Why?
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