THE WORN TABLET, (”MY KNUCKLES WHITE”): “Why didn’t I reach out?” murmured, as the utterances reverberating within room vacuity.

VOC—II:   ────    ⓘ，II   ( WRITTER𓈒 ) “I—Emphasis Threshold Of Comrades..” Dew-Of-Lonesome: I. @Taehyudng, Beneath velvet skies of dusk, “where whispers trace the fading light” the world is stilled, the stars a husk,  of ancient fires burning bright.