Each night, The boundless cold preserves my body, The walls stand guard, Echoing the earth’s relentless command— A futile law of gravity.
So that my form remains intact.
And tomorrow, Once more, I shall smile At the wise fools, empty of thought.
You know, I have been dead for years.
~1 دقیقه مطالعه · آخرین بهروزرسانی ۶ خرداد ۱۴۰۴
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