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Jul 11. 2025
Born without breath, yet I roam the skies, My face ever shifting, vanishing in cries. No tether can hold me, no net can snare, Yet breezes and winds still dance with me there.
Jul 11. 2025
Born without breath, yet I roam the skies, My face ever shifting, vanishing in cries. No tether can hold me, no net can snare, Yet breezes and winds still dance with me there.