Notes
most of the love poetry was about fliers, back then, before the war. now, all it is is atom bombs and faulty pistols. now, instead of the poems talking about how the sun graced your wings with warmth and light, all you feel is the cold and a slow downwards spiral.
1 comment on HER NAME IS PESTILENCE
vyrnnus October 03, 2016
i love this mix so much
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