CRIED VERSES FROM THE BLEAK WASTELAND

The wasteland stretches eternally, a graveyard of rusted metal and broken dreams. Screams echo through the desolate winds, carrying tales of loss. Here, amongst the tombstones, poets find their voice, scratching verse onto parchment as black as the sky. Their words are barren, a reflection to the spirit of this cursed land. Aching for rain, they