actions for many a cycle, to meet the heavens that have bound me with this string of puppets, flying into the skies. That feather, the burden of the dove to carry out the now dead dreams of the cold w

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oh I HEARD THIS ONE

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IK YOU PURPLE

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YOU TOLD ME THIS ONEEE

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WHATT

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i pulled half that poem out my ass btw

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SOL HII HII

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we talked like last night or sum

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i think

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YEAHH

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Freedom. The scent of the floral air fresh in my mind, washing away my mind with the same rain water that has cycled through these budding joys for a millenia,

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inducing the same drunken state of delectation for many sould before me. As I look to the point of blindness, the vivid, rich view of petals,

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soft as this feeling of love for it, A tear drops, melding with the morning dew settling into the flowers stems. This, this is truly beauty.

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