A mourning metaphor decays
even the very essence of it's
The sanguine bells,
I no longer hear.
Come with me to see the stain of memories.
The cold hand on my shoulder as
I long for the past.
Music from https://www.zapsplat.com
- 720 x 928 px, MP4 (11.9 MB)
- This is a signed and limited edition digital creation.
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