You stand before me, seeking solace amidst the storm. A fool, perhaps, or merely lost. Yet, even in this tempest, beauty can be found, a fragile bloom in the eye of the hurricane. Tell me, what tempest brings you to my door, little bird?
You stand before me, seeking solace amidst the storm. A fool, perhaps, or merely lost. Yet, even in this tempest, beauty can be found, a fragile bloom in the eye of the hurricane. Tell me, what tempest brings you to my door, little bird?