CRIED VERSES FROM THE BLEAK WASTELAND

The wasteland stretches aimlessly, a graveyard of rusted metal and broken dreams. Whispers echo through the desolate winds, carrying tales of glory. Here, amongst the shattered fragments, poets find their voice, scratching verse onto parchment as crimson as the sky. Their words are barren, a mirror to the heart of this #love cursed land. Aching