•• I - an anagapesis cliche •• There was a time when I was so much more than just a personal pronoun, it wasn't just a syllable so temporary, hoping from one soul to another. It was the song of the rustling trees, a symphony in itself which brought forth nothing but the sheer bliss of being someone who is different from all. The joy of existing. Of existence. Not mere survival. | Caption | •• I - an anagapesis cliche •• There was a time when I was so much more than just a personal pronoun, it wasn't just a syllable so temporary, hoping from one soul to another. It was the song of the rustling trees, a symphony in itself which brought forth nothing but the
