In the twilight hum of broken cities,
where glass teeth bite the smog-choked sky,
I walked—a stranger to my own time—
past dreams rusted in neon haze.
"This is the kingdom we made,"
whispered the wind through hollow streets,
"not with love, but with longing unfulfilled."
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I. The Circle of Shattered Masks
Faces gleamed in fractured mirrors—
perfect, painted, pixel-deep.
Beneath the glass:
eyes dull as...
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