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Cemetery Thoughts
All the fragmented pieces that lie here, bleed in their own intensity. Each with a scar that tells a story. Each with a story that could never be heard. The hourglass has stopped here. Archived souls are sifted through like pages in an ancient book. Their voices are like whispers to us. Their voices are like screams to them. Each invisible, fading aura lingering in quiet exile.
"Their voices are like
"Their voices are like whispers to us. Their voices are like screams to them."
true in so many contexts. there is wisdom in those words.