Even the moon does not shine throughout the night.
The flare was lit. Red sparks fall. We stand in front of this futile celebration of survival. Sulfur's burning sound is like a melody that soothes our hopeless souls. What a torturous 366 days of looping through this never-ending night. What a long rhythm waiting for someone to wake us up from this nightmare.
Night Terror’s Confetti
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Even the moon does not shine throughout the night.
The flare was lit. Red sparks fall. We stand in front of this futile celebration of survival. Sulfur's burning sound is like a melody that soothes our hopeless souls. What a torturous 366 days of looping through this never-ending night. What a long rhythm waiting for someone to wake us up from this nightmare.