FIVE SONS of the FORGOTTEN
The smoke tastes of blood, yet it is the drums of memory that cut deepest. To slay strangers is survival, but to slay kin is to split one's own soul
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The smoke tastes of blood, yet it is the drums of memory that cut deepest. To slay strangers is survival, but to slay kin is to split one's own soul
Poetry Books 50% Off
Bestselling collections from top poets