π¬ Peace
Tears sting my eyes once more, building up and rolling over my cheeks with the heat of a dying star. Isnβt that what death is? Itβs forgetting. Itβs letting go. We make peace with the dead to say goodbye.
Tears sting my eyes once more, building up and rolling over my cheeks with the heat of a dying star. Isnβt that what death is? Itβs forgetting. Itβs letting go. We make peace with the dead to say goodbye.