Diary

The Wind that Clashes within My Breath

Seven times already the moon roused and gone without traces up there, and my soul still trapped inside its own sanctuary. I have already sinking my very emotion the nearly bottomless space, to touch its own boundaries, to know its own form of its formless flames.

I think I am already leaving this world to long, a little bit hard to take a simple breath now on. A squeal of freedom trapped with chaotic twisted analogy within its creator, and it makes me believe there is nothing need to be foretold anymore.

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