Mr.kitty - Messiah ❲TESTED 2024❳

My hands are , not by rope, but by the weight of things unsaid. To speak would be to shatter the only sanctuary I know. But the curse is heavy, a veil over a memory I can almost taste—something warm, something before the glass.

I stand alone. I watch the people. I wait for the strength to break the glass. Mr.Kitty - Messiah

I watch them. They carry their and paper skin like burdens they've forgotten how to set down. They choose to live in the rush, unaware that the minutes they chase are already slipping through their fingers like sand. They are the reason we exist—or perhaps, they are the reason we’ve forgotten why we do. My hands are , not by rope, but