WRITHED VERSES FROM THE BLEAK WASTELAND

The wasteland stretches aimlessly, a canvas of rusted metal and broken dreams. Screams echo through the desolate winds, whispering tales of forgotten. Here, amongst the tombstones, poets find their voice, bleeding verse onto parchment as black as the sky. #quotes Their words are bitter, a window to the heart of this cursed land. Aching for rain,