#myhelltheircircus
He lost himself to his love,
and we lost him because of his love.
His love was like a bittersweet poison that slowly ate him away.
Bitter enough to wrap-up his story-
Too sweet for him to tell the difference between love and deceit.
A damaged oddity exposed like an open wound.
Love was the bacteria that feasted on his wounds.
Too broken already who could blame him?
They forced off his bandaid claiming he feigned vulnerability.
Forced to seek help yet this was the beginning of the end.
Our hearts are battered in a concoction of emotions,
similar to his mind that was battered in a concoction of trauma.
One would think his killer was his enemy,
but his enemy was his own conscience,
always there at the scene to rob him of his joy,
conjuring his past and reminding him of the neglect he suffered.
His family feigned compassion, realisation sent him to therapy.
It is here where his end begun, having fallen into a web,
Carefully woven by a black widow.
As life slowly evaded him, so did all capacity of reason.
Bringing us here today where we have to pretend to care.
Not much is to be said about the deceased.
Yet there is so much left unsaid.
So many fingers to point, with the majority pointing back at us.
With Sharon being now in the wind and his enemy slain with him.
It gives reason ask, who painted his face?
Here he lies pale in his casket, in complete clown regalia.
Trying to maintain a facade has never been harder.
If we cry we'll burst out laughing.
If we weep we'll just end up grinning.
It's not our fault, its not his either.
We are incapable of expressing empathy,
So we just stare through this looking glass.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:45 AM UTC
death is life, is death, is life, is death, is life is-
they're carving my name in the grave a gain
the flowers are fresh and their faces wet
my body has died but I'm still alive
look over your shoulders I'm back from the dead!
I fear I wont live to see the world tomorrow,
someone tell me if this is hell.
I have to escape this void there is no other choice.
Trying to turn off the voices the void ate me .
Leeches surrounded, my conscience is throbbing.
I cant sleep at night I hold my pillows tight.
Caught in the rivers of the tears that I cried.
Bountiful harvest they flock to my garden-
push their way inside I go run and hide.
I used all my words for a quick game-
blew it all before you won.
I speak in cursive, I'm poignant, assertive-
there's musical chairs in my teeth.
Poke me to battle I'll jump on the saddle.
I'll smile as you fall to your feet.
And they talk without thinking, they bark while they're shaking-
with teeth that are round and dull.
And they yell while they're chasing-
while I'm steady pacing,
my syllables hit the floor!
Ribbons tied around like a noose-
wonder if I'll ever get loose.
I don't want to bruise for you-
holding back my words until my face is blue.
I don't really care about your crew-
you can tell them what you wanted to!
bones are crushing-
bodies touching-
blood is pumping-
feeling nothing-
I will not suffer,
cry under covers.
Damaged oddity bought by Sotheby's-
auctioned to the selfish man who thinks that he's the prophecy.
I'm hauling an outdated shell help me let go!
The walls around me are so close-
caving in.
Some of the friends that I thought were forever,
I now want to severe the ties.
The seats have been spotted I'm no longer doubting-
I think its finally time.
Pluto destroy me, **** me off slowly.
I'll bathe in my ashes and rise like a phoenix.
Show me who I am becoming.
Show me the demons I'm hiding.
I'm turning to expired roots-
help me move on!
There's nothing in this tired town for me no more.
What was once a home is a hell I cant imagine.
So send me out packing it up.
Everything is blurry I don't want to worry.
The pain from this growing is rough-
pluto destroy me **** me off slowly.
I'll bathe in my ashes and rise like a phoenix!
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:53 AM UTC
They saw the trip of a giant and made haste before the fall
exposed themselves too soon in the euphoria of my destruction
Dear snakes, take heed and celebrate after the ashes are lost at sea
Thought that I was done for but God denied my downfall
Unapologetically a victim of my own thoughts,
How could I have survived a weapon I had formed?
Who can blame the victim when he has taken the fall?
Premonitions of death have since ceased poisoning my conscience.
A phase of temporary madness shrouded in sadness' skin.
In limbo I went through it all
Where were those that dubbed themselves "Ride or Die"?
It's sad when you think of it, but reality is supposed to hurt.
If there there was one thing I learnt at all,
Peers that act like auctions-men be sure to keep a talisman
(be sure to keep at arms-length)
Lessons I learnt in quarantine will always stick that's guaranteed.
I was chasing that running hill instead running up that hill at all.
The rope I used was a paid actor, the scene ended before i could end it
They laughed, I kept them laughing its funny now they're silent
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 3:13 AM UTC
I want her license revoked, it's my new life's mission.
The therapist keeps staring at me and noting stuff in her diary.
"An opportunity" is what one of her notes read,
I wonder what that might mean.
As far as therapy goes, I don't think she's up to this task.
I too didn't have a choice, it was either therapy or jail.
But If I could tell the future, I would have dashed back to my cell.
I tried selling my dream to be free,
Instead, I ended up in another form of hell.
My psychic was a fraud, I'm coming for her soon after my probation.
This is all a waste of time, I could be plotting my revenge.
Yet I'm stuck in peculiar room, exposed to another human opinion.
I'm not therapy's biggest fan.
I don't get the concept of paying to be told what I already know
But Sharon here seems different,
She looks like she needs therapy herself.
She has this crazed look in her eyes.
Like she's brewing a horror script,
and I'm the dumb helpless character.
A few days in therapy have done more damage than jail ever could.
I don't know how or when-
but I've begun to feel a strange pull toward Sharon.
I pick up on her signals like sniffer dog-
She blinks to tell me she loves me-
And ask me questions to get to know me better.
I've fallen-
Fallen into an abyss,
At the bottom, deaths warm embrace awaits.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:41 AM UTC
Who is she? What is she?
This anguish can't be the handiwork of a human being
Will my heart ever be pacified or I'm stuck in this feeling?
I wish I could mask my pain but she'll still know, won't she?
She must've been a mime
That's how she was so good at feigning nonchalance
It all feels like a crime
Who is she? What is she?
This anguish can't be the handiwork of a human being
I sent emissaries to ask if there was still a chance
She butchered them all, so I guess she still needs time
Was there ever a motive or I was just cheap dopamine?
She fooled me once, let's see if she can fool the mortician
Can someone remove this makeup off me
I wasn't part of a circus anymore she made me a solo act
My heart will not go on
Can someone resurrect her for a sequel
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 4:02 AM UTC
I must admit, I don't like this game.
I wonder where Sharon is or if she's even coming back,
if she doesn't, it will be such a shame.
I wonder why suddenly everything is black.
Am I under some sort of influence?
But I'm probably imagining it right?
If so then what happened to the light?
It feels like I am a weightless spirit floating about.
floating closer to the hooded figure like a kite.
Is that the "Hades" Sharon mentioned, I hope he can end this game.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:46 AM UTC
Multitudes of broken promises still hang in the air
Yearning for the penance of my now new foes
Friends to foes, I still cannot comprehend
Rattled by the untimely end,
Intimate tales that I still can't share
Even the mere thought of it all brings snot to my nose
Nightmares are now routine and it shows
Dreaming of lost ties that noone cared to mend
Sadly it's all lost and I can only pull my hair
When will life play fair?
Everything seems to eventually end
Rather sooner than later, in flames it goes
Emotions are early at the scene like a ****** of crows
None of it seems real until you run out of air
Once the deed is done you only have yourself to defend
Thoughts were voiced without intent to offend
Thus it can only be the victim who knows
How much the choice of words were a scare
Exhuming stale memories with a flair
Patiently waiting for a reply from Rose
Reading through old texts cringing to the end
Once upon a time, love used to be grand
Back when we could smile without a care
Lovely yet omitted without cause
Euphoric moments that had us on our toes
My, my- how it hurts that it had to end
It's all too much for one to bear
When we meet now all we do is stare
Anything else is more than we can stand
Sad truths that can only be pacified by a heavy dose
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 3:19 AM UTC
Because I struggle to remember your identity
I'm bound by the your side of the lie
I can't refute your story because I can't remember
Can the judge or jury tell if I'm lying?
I have to plead the fifth
I can't seem to remember
I would remember it if it were true right?
Did we truly fall in love? Was is true love?
Did it happen? Did it not happen?
The noise is too much to bear
I wreck havoc in my brain searching for a match
Who are you? What are we?
Who are you? What are we?
I wreck havoc in my brain searching for a match
The noise is too much to bear
Did it happen? Did it not happen?
Did we truly fall in love? Was is true love?
I would remember it if it were true right?
I can't seem to remember
I have to plead the fifth
Can the judge or jury tell if I'm lying?
I can't refute your story because I can't remember
I'm bound by the your side of the lie
Because I struggle to remember your identity
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 3:15 AM UTC
I never really got over Sharon
I don't know how to
I can't move on from the past too
Not until I see Sharon
As I look back to what once was
was I drunk or was I high?
high off my own supply it seems
Seems to me I was both
Both drunk and high
High enough to make the fall deadly
Deadly enough to snap me back to my senses
The bitter taste of regret sticks to me like dirt
The memories we made mock me
The transition from friends to foes has me in a chokehold
But don't worry, I'll heal
When I do, please don't remind of Sharon
Is it over yet you may ask
I guess you'll have to peep through the looking glass
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 4:05 AM UTC
At birth I was forced to face the pain
Subjected to the agony of performative affection
Fattened up with trauma like an exhibit animal
This exhibit is open to all, you can even bring friends
However, discretion is to be advised, my life is no show
I silently cry with a broad smile and wonder if i'll ever heal
How does one heal?
What happens if they mock my pain?
Is this a safe space or my story will end up on a show?
For how long will they keep playing with my affection?
How can I move on if my all my foes were once friends?
Do they know I'm just like them and not some random animal?
Yet if wishes were horses I'd wish to be an animal
Maybe then they'd forget about me and let me heal
Maybe then I wouldn't have to chase after friends
Maybe then I'd be fast enough and evade all this pain
Maybe then I wouldn't see through the simulated affection
Maybe then all this pain wouldn't even show
What Sharon did to me must've been from a TV show
She left me to hang like some slaughtered animal
Even after I gave her all my affection
As my therapist she was supposed to help me heal
But I guess a better substitute was additional pain
Even after she butchered my all bonds with my friends
Good morning class, today's lesson is on friends
and why mine were all for show
Friendship showed me flames but helped forget the pain
My patience was overworked like a circus animal
But at least they managed to heal
Even though I regret sharing my affection
I've searched everywhere for any form of affection
At one point I thought I'd found it in my friends
I'll relay that story when I heal
My desperation had begun to show
To some I'd begun to resemble a feral wild animal
But at least it made me forget the pain
How does one heal from such pain?
Do I assume my final form as a rabid animal?
Or will I one day wake up, and decide to end this show?
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 3:59 AM UTC
I hear loud whispering sounds beckoning a reckoning of the forgotten past
Loud whispering sounds echoing through my conscience, its a long-lost battle
A struggle for a facade that had already burnt but I'm still here begging
Begging for the past to unhand me or it's just my conscience?
Vehement traits that never seem to fade
Vices not virtues, the former is quite dominant
lost in the daze-of a fabricated self,
The slow emancipation of impending doom
what's true if it all ends up being a lie
It's all a play the public will never understand but can't get enough of
Sooner rather than later, the author meets a dead-end
Just as predicted, the crowd iis a mirage.
I heard them ask with a lot of sass
digging into my past looking for facts
Echoing into the past, necromancing failed dreams
What better a foe to do the job than the inner self
The mind is banging on the door singing songs of foreboding doom
Killing the hope of this peasant when the facade has finally worn off
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 3:21 AM UTC
My fellows round me up in a frenzy,
secretly noting the measurements for my casket,
the audience watches as I struggle and fall and burst into a round of applause,
I stand up and fix my wig and in a flash I'm back on the floor,
I'm bewildered by how I got here, but the applause drowns my thoughts.
After every show, my bones feel like fragments yet my ego thirsts,
the audience too can't seem to get enough of this act
our hunger for more leaves me fervent at the stake.
I didn't sign up to be a circus act,
I dashed toward the sound of cheers without thought
Reality lingered until I was too deep in the pact
Not knowing what lay ahead, I just hoped to be a good sport,
this might all be a bad dream,
if that's the case, I hope to get shot
I burst out laughing every time I want to scream,
it's all too much, are they oblivious to my grappling?
The cheers now fuel my rage, it's almost a peculiar dream.
I hear my fellows grumbling,
it appears they can't be pacified.
I can't quit this tour now, the silence is inordinately numbing
This show has to live-on till their perpetual thirst is satisfied.
I am a facade of confidence, this clown will make it Broadway.
I live for the attention, it makes me feel electrified.
The makeup fails to conceal my dismay,
when the show draws closer to its end.
The silence is daunting, soon this facade will decay
My thoughts are like a fake friend,
constantly conjuring the past we promised to forget.
Inside I might be drowning but this act will not meet its end!
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:26 AM UTC
Did I need to be saved or my mind was playing tricks on me?
Was I really being held captive or poor Merlin was of my own fabricating?
Was my psychiatrist right all along when she said " its been you all along"?
Was there really any pain or the bandaid was truly a sympathy flier,
cordially inviting the general public to hear my side of the story?
So many questions yet I can't seem to necramance logic.
Is my mind still playing tricks on me and I'm not really dead afterall?
I'm losing my mind once again,
seems old habits don't die at all.
My past still tethers me to the world I once yearned to be free of,
if only this "world" had a manual.
I'm looking for the light but the switch is hidden in plain sight.
Looking for the connection, but my sense of sight is quite evasive,
I thought the connection was severed yet those strands still stand regardless.
I hope to cross-over, there's are joke in there somewhere, I promise.
Beware of what you wish for' they said, but why didn't they specify?
They advertised death as some sort of get-away,
yet here I am, wishing I could get away.
Mere wishes that have now come back to slay me,
now I'm stuck in this peculiar dungeon, but where are all the slaves?
My wishes left me here-
"if wishes were horses then beggars would ride"
I never wished for horses and that's probably why I'm the one being sleighed.
I hope to cross-over, there's are joke in there somewhere, I promise.
It seems I've made it out? there's a metaphor somewhere in there, catch it!
They said there's warden coming to save me?
Jail would soothe me right about now.
Someone swore they'll set me free, I laughed too, but these jokes are getting out of hand.
Who can I trust? Can i afford to trust?
Left my riches in my past lives,
ironically freedom was not something I could buy.
Time is what I don't have but I'll buy a watch and play pretend.
I've done it before, they always end up calling security.
My current location is limbo with a douse of insanity.
I couldn't keep-up with the act now reality has drowned me and left to burn.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:48 AM UTC
Birth was not a choice,
yet its where it all began.
A struggle to keep my sanity
but I'm here now and that's the penalty!
Identity crisis in the void eyes of the public,
hunting for a sense of being and hope for belonging.
Haunted persistently by the cadavers of my lost dreams.
Tried selling my dreams, I'll share that story when I'm done serving my time.
The authors of my existence turned authors of my distortion.
They could have just left me a damaged oddity,
yet here we are, season 19, still re-living the grievous tale.
I was auctioned off to this cruel world as ignorant as a tone-deaf comedian.
Somehow I blazed a trail of questionable puns,
don't question it, first let me get of my high.
Neglected cannot suffice,
because their attention was a double-edged sword.
When I look into those eyes and all I see is my reflection.
Dear Merlin my captor could you at least take accountability?
I might not be okay where I am and I might never be understood.
All witnesses contradict my story, is it safe to say I lied?
"Make lemonade" they said,
but the whip was faster than the knife I was not supposed to have.
Suddenly the pain was nonexistent,
but the bucket did a better job than the cockerel.
It seems I'm a vile concoction, brewed in a witches cauldron.
For long have they kept the lid on,
who's going to tell them its now ten sizes small?
They sealed up the opening in hopes keeping the contents anonymous,
yet all they did was cause pressure to accumulate
Now I can't be blamed if I explode now can I?
I can still be saved right?
Or so, is the thought that haunts me every night.
The idea of freedom sounds so foreign,
just the mention of it sends my pulse into a frenzy.
They forced me to remove my bandaid,
labelling it a sympathy flier.
Yet in the crevices of their hollow chests lay a secret urge,
summoning flies to parade on my wounds.
They made this atrocity and have since escaped to their pity party .
I'm already on edge, running on a burnt fuse.
I feel set off like a time bomb,
Good day' is the equivalent of cutting the wrong wire.
I know, I know the love was non-existent,
but can I be blamed for hoping?
All I've been doing is survive.
They've made sure of that,
for the game ends when the target is just but sponge of bullets.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:36 AM UTC
I feel odd every time I think of Sharon.
In one memory I hold her as a sentiment,
in another I have to look over my shoulder.
I spent quite a long time getting used to Sharon.
Did I hold any significance to Sharon or I was just cheap dopamine?
The answer is permanently inconclusive so my poor soul Shuns Old Sharon.
I loved playing games with Sharon,
in one, she would strangle me in my sleep and I'd play dead.
But Sharon always looked infuriated when I forgot to keep playing dead.
She once put glass shards in my food, she said there was a diamond.
I had to eat the shards first to get to it.
Sadly it turned out she'd been mistaken, I appreciate the thoughtful gesture though.
Some of my friends claimed she wanted to **** me, I didn't believe it so I asked her.
My friends are all dead now, Sharon claims it's because they vaped.
I'm glad I never vaped, I guess I have to thank Sweet Old Sharon.
Sharon says she's never played poker.
I guess she's been a mime then.
She never seemed to smile around me,
she was afraid she'd grow old if she did.
Sharon once said I made her "ick",
her brother said it meant I gave her goosebumps.
He also said that Sharon never smiled as a kid.
So I guess she's still the Same Old Sharon
Sharon's love language was money.
She said it was the only thing she loved about me.
I'm the only one that understood her jokes, that meant we were soulmates.
My mother wanted us to sign a prenup,
Whatever it is, Sharon didn't seem to like it.
I did not get to sign it though, I haven't heard from my mother.
Last time I saw her she told me to break up with "Sinister Old Sharon!".
I don't have much of a love life.
I've been very devoted to Sharon.
We're playing this game in our attic,
she made me sign something called a will,
She says it's for the game, the game of love.
She bought me this long necklace that hangs from the ceiling.
Sharon says it's what newlyweds do.
She left awhile ago with her brother, I saw them with their lips connected.
Sharon says it's called kissing, it seemed pretty disgusting.
I can't seem to breathe properly anymore,
Sharon said it's part of the game.
My head feels heavy, I'm seeing dark spots.
Sharon says she'll back when hades comes to get me,
I don't know who that is.
All I see is an image of Smiling Old Sharon.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:43 AM UTC
Dear universe, please take my pain, double it and give it to those who seek my end.
I've rather gone through a lot, and some-how they still aren't pacified.
I don't know how to feel-
I don't know if i'm allowed feel-
I don't know if I still have the capacity to feel.
I feel like a mistake,
The doer knows they made it yet they do their very best to avoid it.
"knowledge is power" they say,
yet this knowledge I carry has me feeling powerless!
I never asked for any of this and my opinion wasn't asked for either.
If I felt like a burden before,
then the neglect added weight to this unbalanced scale.
I don't know how to feel about it all,
first I felt hurt, then unwanted then annoying then I just settled in this numb haven.
My heart sears of pain every time my mind conjures a memory-
memories of what could've been-
what could have happened in another reality-
a reality where love IS a reality.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:37 AM UTC
I quit the circus to pursue bright lights-
Sadly, my brain didn't get the memo.
I'm still struggling to drown the circus
music.
My former audience keep looking at me
longingly,
hoping their pitiful looks draw me back
to the arena.
I quit the circus to pursue bright lights-
But my past is hot on my tail.
My psychic told me to trust the process-
But I trust that she needs a psychic
herself-
to foretell what shall be of her if this "process"
betrays my trust.
I quit the circus to pursue bright lights-
I'm terrified I'll make it, Murphy said it
works best that way.
I already picture
myself in the big leagues,
This vivid mirage affords me a
temporary solace.
I quit the circus to pursue bright lights-
but the nostalgia is culling my joy.
The crowd here isn't as responsive,
they just stare at me with dead eyes-
Silently demanding me to lose my fickle
hope.
I quit the circus to pursue bright lights-
'I was blinded by the lights', is what I'll
say if I crash.
I'm not anticipating it but
the signs are showing.
I plan to sell my dreams at the big
stage-
they'll have no choice but to listen!
Is this my big break?
Is this how I finally heal?
I quit the circus to pursue bright lights-
but my vision is obscured from this
cell.
In my defense, I tried escaping.
The facade of freedom was just too enticing.
Who can blame me? I am, after all the
subject of my docket.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:33 AM UTC
sanity is a spectrum where my existence was never confirmed.
normalcy is propaganda I can never fall for
recurring memories of my past keep seeking for more
moving-on was an illusion and I hope I won't be conformed
my villain/ victim status is yet to be affirmed
the story is told better by the victim, that's for sure
yet the words all sound manipulative, and the concept is rather a bore
my heart is willing to listen but my mind is ready to snore '
sanity is a spectrum where my existence can never be confirmed
I'm about to tell my story, so leave your opinions at the door
This is not a pity-party, bodies will be washed ashore
Proceed with caution where alibis have been formed
sanity is a spectrum where my sanity will NOT be confirmed
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:23 AM UTC
I know the reason I'm here is of my own doing,
having been slayed and dragged here by the ghost of tomorrows past.
Held in a world that feels foreign yet all too familiar.
This dungeon reeks of consequence, evade is all I hear.
Yet I know that this can never come to pass!
for you're too heartless and unstable,
any form of submission will send you over the moon!
So I sit back in the dark, and try accepting but it's just too bitter to swallow.
Is this food or delusion? all I know is I crave more of it.
Dear Merlin my captor are you pleased with your handiwork?
Are you even there? if yes I'd love to get to meet you.
Dear Merlin, you sick *******
could you please just turn the lights back on!
Let me dream, let me breathe.
In your eyes I'm void of value but is it my fault for trying to please?
The figures around me keep their masks on,
mannequins that hold my joy up their sleeves!
Dear Merlin can I be blamed for yearning?
Am I to blame if my advances end up in flames?
Or we can play pretend and hope it counts as learning.
You never keep your end of the bargain, that's why I ended up in these frames.
My memories evade me like peace,
yet you torture me with my past.
How heartless could you possibly be?
Does the present fail to provide sufficient material?
I look back to the days when we used to coexist,
before you bought that binder-
before i gave you command,
now the power has poisoned you.
Where you should have suffered,
I'm left to gather the remnants of your outbursts.
I'm slowly dwindling Merlin.
I'm sure you expected more of a fight.
Broken from the insults you were hurling,
my shards can't even reflect the light like they used to,
they aren't sure if they're deserving-
or if peace is still a right.
Can' hold on much longer,
my wounds are now infested-
molested by a legion of consequence-
the acid rubs deep-
infected by a horde of overthinking,
they forced me to remove my bandaid,
accused me of feigning it all.
Gave you the baton-
the same baton identified as my ****** weapon.
When it's time for it to end , who will shout "cut!"?
You came and you conquered but your power is only a fragment of my hallucinations.
for you are just but,- a villain of my conjuring,
a fragment of my imagination!
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:39 AM UTC
Every time I dare to dream, I risk waking up from a dreadful nightmare-
to a nightmare I constantly suppressed in the abyss of my memory.
I wished to never dream so I fought to stay awake-
again if wishes were horses, mine would have been a pitbull.
Yet as it move closer to tomorrow-
a tomorrow that resembles my dreams,
I feel a yawn crawling up my soul-
crawling up my soul in a battle for dominance
to subdue this self-induced insomniac but the coffee will wear-off in time.
but this manic maniac is just a victim-
a victim of the ghost of tomorrow's past,
or a victim of fear, fear of a tomorrow-
a tomorrow that is slowly materialising,
resembling his nightmare,
a reality where art is just but a distant memory.
tomorrow has since passed, with the ghost of its past stuck in limbo
stuck in limbo and the insanity of it all is driving me insane!
the vivid memories of beautiful art have since parted ways with my conscience,
all I have left now is the bitter aftertaste of brighter days now left in the past-
a past once doused in the fragrance of poetic mastery.
now the past has passed and instead we're doused in the bittersweet fragrance of poetic nostalgia
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:28 AM UTC