The silence of death is so unimaginable,
I think that's why, to some, it is so desired.
Like the stars we gaze at when the velvet sky kisses our eyes, where do they begin and end?
How can we think we are forgotten?
I think that's why, to some, it is so desired.
Like the stars we gaze at when the velvet sky kisses our eyes, where do they begin and end?
How can we think we are forgotten?
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