Published on Mon, 15th Jun 2026 at 22:58
Winters maladies beset this mind; what of me will find the line? frozen pines still lace the times where a journeys eye did reach the blind! Blustery madness lingers in walls; what of me will make the call? chosen lines regale the fall where morrows heart did land in full! Winters maladies begat the mind; what of me will yearn to rewind?
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Of That Night
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