Cried Verses from the Bleak Wasteland

The wasteland stretches aimlessly, a graveyard of rusted metal and broken dreams. Whispers echo through the desolate winds, telling tales of forgotten. Here, amongst the ruins, poets find their voice, scratching verse onto parchment as crimson as the sky. Their words are sharp, a window to the soul of this broken land. Aching for rain, they writ

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