Silence of the cradle
At midnight, the clock bang, and the birds scatter. The cradle will then rock gently, making a soft sound.
a Glimpse of a vision of an old barrel cut in half on a steel frame, an old rustic garb . "Oblitus es mei" is the sound, written in calligraphy is your name.
Rock, rock, your treasures, and your shame. Free your emotions and let the words glide over your lips.
For no one can loathe with different shame. We are all the same, just different profanity.
Only God is our judge and loves us anyway.
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 4:13 PM UTC
Silence of the cradle
At midnight, the clock bang, and the birds scatter. The cradle will then rock gently, making a soft sound.
a Glimpse of a vision of an old barrel cut in half on a steel frame, an old rustic garb . "Oblitus es mei" is the sound, written in calligraphy is your name.
Rock, rock, your treasures, and your shame. Free your emotions and let the words glide over your lips.
For no one can loathe with different shame. We are all the same, just different profanity.
Only God is our judge and loves us anyway.
God is our only judge.