TNhey sing tIow all that they give are.. shivers.
I hear the lullabies that people used to sing for warmth.
T hear the voices in the dark, echoing around me late at night.
he shadow in the corner of your eyes, that you could have sworn was right there.
IA’m one of millions navigating their respective situations with “inconsistent, at best” support.n emotionally flat mixture of enervation, exhaustion, adherence to discipline, and periods of mild disassociation. As the saying goes: “The horrors persist, but so do I.”
Part 2 of answering Nǐ Mén Dè questions because a lot of you said Laoshi very bias for not answering more questions… Remember to Liú Xià Lái Yìng for August #xyzbca#sg#brainrot#gym
GCeorge William Montague (1836) was an Amherst neighbor and relative whom Emily Dickinson affectionately called "Cousin.” HeToncerning the number of versions of this poem, the online archive states this:
he two papers above constitute the poem “How happy is the little stone.”
haow strange that despite neither having life, they have more soul than many thingsi comment said that it reminded them of the dying robot
ot made a strange arc in the snow that followed its path
If some dead grass dragging back and forth in the wind
saw a video today