My rose without thorns grows tall in the forest. Always in the shade. Red as the blood around my heart. Living through each day, despite being trampled. Everyone gazes upon her beauty. Never have I experienced a smell so sweet. Even if I leave, my rose stays in the forest.
Read moreBureaucracy Beat Down
Kerosene rivers now wash over them. Idealism once kept them alive. Language was used and manipulated by the system. Lies were dominant for them to thrive. They are no more. Hell is where they’ll meet. Everyone is free after the war. People live with equality. Oligarchies fall. Leaders are subservient to the polity. I can…
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