Hai sayangku @TheDrazenc cintaku @TheDrazenc buah hatiku @TheDrazenc. Tumbuh lebih baik, hidup lebih lama, kurang-kurangi sawannya.
⠀
○＿＿＿＿＿
∥ |
∥ @TheDrazenc |
∥ |
∥￣￣￣￣￣
∧_∧ ∥
(`･ω･ ) ∥
ヽ つ０
し―Ｊ

Happy mensive.

Happy mensive paguy pembully, tumbuh lebih baik.

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CONTRASTED STRUCTURE: SANITY AND DELIRIUM.
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Misled, confined within walls that breathe and whisper their names. Cursed with the kind of fate that traps the living between echoes and fog. When the siren screamed, reality fractured revealing the town’s pulse beneath their trembling hands.
(They were boys, not lost in time but in torment, dragged by monsters from school hallways into the labyrinth of their minds.) / 終わりなき輪廻 / uncertain.

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𝘖 𝘈𝘙𝘊𝘏𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘚 𝘖𝘍 𝘋𝘌𝘓𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘜𝘔: 47
Where the town’s heart beats beneath the fog, and memory wanders in the skin of lost boys.

The tale unfolds not in kingdoms or churches, but in hospitals, classrooms, and rotting streets where nightmares wear the faces of friends, and the air itself remembers what it once was. Sirens dispute with silence, ash conspires with shadow, and the world forgets that fear still breathes beneath its cracked skin. Footsteps echo through empty halls, and whispers curl like smoke, seeking names to claim.
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ㅤㅤTHE LIVING, UNBROKEN, YET FRACTURED:
ㅤㅤ(THEIR REALITY DILUTED INTO DREAM.)
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Like reflections bleeding through shattered glass. \ Yet within the horror persists the heartbeat faint, defiant that will, displaced but unextinguished, still claws toward dawn.
And the old sins, clothed in new flesh, walk on through the fog.
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(‘I Have Found That To Awaken Beneath The Town’s Fog Is Not To Conquer The Darkness With Mortal Defiance.)

 But to endure the silence that the Hill itself
 has sewn into the marrow of every dream.
 For every soul wages its battle not in daylight,
 but within the unseen corridors where guilt,
 grief, and remembrance devour their own echo.

Upon This Haunted Silence I Vow
To Walk With Fear Restrained,
And Sanity Held By Thread. 𖤝🩸

 • •     • •
(“FOR TO MASTER ONE’S DELIRIUM
IS TO COMMAND THE FOG ITSELF.”)
And there, within the trembling boundary of what is real, the town contends with conscience. When the siren wails and memory bleeds into the streets, the lost learn: escape is hollow if the mind remains unawakened.
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