“Amid the dried up & cold woods,

under the charisma of enchanting darkness ; there lies time.

Held back by breathing mannequins, embodying the blend of silence and echoes.

The atmosphere smells smoke, the bleak longings linger all over, leaving their silage.

Every plea, etched on the soil, the weepings found dancing around and the spirits buoyed down to ground.

These souls tired of ranting, just hide their misery in the embrace of dusty layers of time.

Often, a merely ecstatic nostalgia hits them and they lose their selves

whenever they get an equally comforting proximity.

A pretense that pulls them into a safe solace in the form of a richly satisfying company.”

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