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we are all figs here

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  • foreign is the air around me i can only taste yours
    align our lips and lungs because the earth is cold and
    grey is everything without a love so kind and encompassing
    grand is the parlor made of our touching finger tips
    at last i can feel as if i'm part of something i beg for you
    to tell me that you agree


I think the best thing about making it into the quote generator is when nobody tells you, so one day you're just scrolling and voila, some phenomenally inane thing that crawled out of your dying synapses and immediately regretted being born the second it made contact with the air has been archived for all time. Or worse, a remark of only average inanity. Never tell me when you've put me in the generator. Pride-tinged regret just doesn't taste the same without the spice of surprise.
— SirenCymbaline