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“This modern deluge kneeing my dreams, twisting their blue, torturing my skies, tearing their chant and pouring grief streams trying again to bleed yearning’s eyes. They call it free world while smashing behind the light to adapt to their shadows’ kind.” — Simona Prilogan
This modern deluge kneeing my dreams,
twisting their blue, torturing my skies,
tearing their chant and pouring grief streams
trying again to bleed yearning’s eyes.
They call it free world while smashing behind
the light to adapt to their shadows’ kind.